


Easily

by proantagonist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Male Slash, Sibling Incest, Thor as a single father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proantagonist/pseuds/proantagonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not until Jane dies that Loki finally comes to Thor. Emotional hurt/comfort. Thorki slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: There are potentially triggering elements in this story. Rated mature for explicit m/m sex, dubious consent, pseudo-incest, violence, and language.
> 
> If any of this bothers you, my other story Bargaining, is much tamer. I wrote this one because I needed to get my kink on, and there's no place for it there. This takes place maybe ten years in the future, post TDW.

Chapter One

It's not until four days after her funeral that Thor takes notice of the missing bottles.

He's been drinking. Gallons upon gallons of Midgardian alcohol in an effort to feel nothing. It's a difficult sensation to maintain, and so he compensates with quantity. But even as numb as his mind is, he still has enough wits to know that while he has been drinking heavily for days—all the while sitting and staring and blinking only when the whites of his eyes feel ready to split from dryness—there is no pile of bottles to show for it. So where are they?

Only one bottle sits before him—clear, unlabeled glass filled with amber liquid—and it hasn't run dry since he first brought it to his lips. It tastes strangely of home.

He's aware that something isn't right, but he's too drunk and grieved to care. And so he tilts the bottle upward and drains it down before stumbling to his feet. Leaving the satisfyingly empty bottle on the table, he turns his back on it and trudges out of the kitchen. He doesn't see the liquid inside refilling itself until it again kisses the rim.

Thor checks on Samantha, who is bundled up and asleep in her bed, and he kisses her little forehead goodnight and whispers that he loves her. He leaves her room quickly after that because she does not need to see her father in such a state. He's not the only one whose lost someone he loved.

He stumbles to his room—which used to be _their_ room—and drops himself onto the bed he doesn't remember tidying. He imagines nightmares will soon claim him. Her screams. The feeling of running through mud. Too slow. It's his curse to always be too slow. He did not think to haul his little brother into his arms before he fell into an abyss. Why did he ever think he could protect Jane?

* * *

But surprisingly, he does not dream, nor has he dreamt of anything at all since she died. He wakes with the rising of the sun, expecting his head to pound from overindulgence, but it merely aches with the need to get out of bed and stretch. As he forces himself upright and into the bathroom, he doesn't see the bleary-eyed reflection of a drunk, grieving widower. The dark circles under his eyes are minimal, and strangely, his hair is clean and free of its normal morning tangles. Even his clothes smell clean and have no wrinkles.

He is remarkably unchanged. Unaffected by her loss on the outside, when inside he feels ravaged. It's as if his own body refuses to allow him to be miserable.

He imagines Jane watching him with a look of scorn belonging to another. _Did you mourn?_ she might ask.

* * *

In the kitchen, the bottle of alcohol mocks him. It's full, of course, and he's sober enough to wonder if he's gone completely mad. Has he only been pretending to drink it?

"You're up," Samantha says.

Thor turns to see his daughter, who is fully dressed in her school clothes and staring up at him with her sharp, blue eyes. She is but six-years-old, in the first grade, but she acts much older. Closer to forty, these days.

"There's coffee in the pot," she adds. "I'll be home at two thirty."

Thor blinks at the steaming, half-full coffee pot. "Since when do you drink that?"

She huffs a sigh as she slings her backpack over her shoulder. "I don't."

"You have school today," Thor says. "I forgot. I, uh, I shall make you breakfast."

"I already ate. We're almost out of cereal."

Confused, Thor again turns his eyes to the kitchen. The counters are spotless, though he doesn't remember cleaning them, and there is no cereal bowl in the sink. His daughter cannot even _reach_ the sink. Nor the cabinets where the bowls are kept. Nor the coffee maker. A nervous feeling fills the pit of this stomach. But he will have to deal with that as soon as his daughter is safe.

"I will get you more," Thor says, combing his fingers through his hair. "What about your lunch?"

Samantha holds up her lunchbox, and Thor takes it from her suspiciously. Inside is carefully sliced and packaged fruit, a sandwich, and a bottle of juice.

"Daddy, I'm going to miss my bus," Samantha says, holding out her hand expectantly. She seems ready to stomp a foot if he doesn't snap out of it.

"All right. I will come with you."

Thor keeps hold of her lunchbox as he walks her out to the street in front of the house. He stands there with her, his fingers stroking her baby-fine blonde hair, as the school bus comes into view. His shoulders are tense as he realizes how clean her hair is—freshly washed.

"Samantha, was anyone in the house while I was asleep?"

She looks up at him, and her expression tells him he's not very smart—and that _he's_ supposed to be the grown up, not her. "Just Uncle Loki," she says, grabbing the lunchbox from his hands as the bus screeches to a halt before them.

* * *

After the bus leaves, his daughter tucked safely inside, Thor goes on a vengeful manhunt. He doesn't have to look very hard.

The little bastard sits on a boulder not ten feet from the back porch, elbows resting on his thighs with a steaming mug of coffee brought close to his lips. He does not drink from it, but merely holds it so that the scent adorns each breath that he inhales as he watches the sun rise over the desert. The morning air is frigid. Cold enough to freeze his breath so that it slips around his form like a misty cape.

Thor is absolutely dazed by the sight of him. Relief, anger, bitterness, gratefulness. It all tangles together in his chest, leaving him breathless.

As he approaches, Loki does not look up, but the tiny smirk on his face says all. He wears Midgardian clothing—a high-necked sweater the color of sage to ward off the morning chill. He's cut his hair recently, and it's shorter than Thor has seen it since before his brother's fall. All in all, he looks freakishly _normal_.

"It's so amusing to watch you work out a problem," Loki says. "Rather like watching an infant defecate in his pants."

Thor's hands ball into fists. His little brother is here at last, and he wants to beat the snot out of him and then haul him to his chest and never let go. Instead, Thor settles for shoving the little shit forcefully off of the boulder and sitting down on it himself. Loki laughs as he lands but looks a little sorry that his coffee spilled.

Thor rests his arms on his legs, breathing hard. It pleases him to see his brother beneath him in the dirt. He deserves no better. "Why are you here?" he bites out.

Loki's eyes narrow with purpose, and the boulder explodes into sand beneath Thor. He cries out and is soon sprawling on the ground beside his brother.

"No reason," Loki says, laughing breathlessly. "But I'm sure we'll find some way to pass the time."

He's lying, of course. There is always a _reason_. And though Thor wants to wrap his fingers around his brother's neck and _squeeze_ , he suddenly finds words difficult to form because of the lump in his throat. Because he knows exactly why his brother is here, even though Loki will never admit it.

"How long have you been here?" Thor asks, eyeing a cut on his wrist left from his fall.

Loki rises to his feet and claps the dust from his hands. "Whatever do you mean? I've only just arrived."

Which means: _Since I heard, you imbecile. Who do you think has been taking care of you?_

"You have a funny notion of caring for someone," Thor says, as if Loki had spoken the words aloud. "Refilling my bottle until I drink myself sick."

If Loki's serene smile is unsettling, his silence is impossibly worse.

"What was I drinking?"

"Water." His smile spreads. "More or less."

"Loki."

"Well, I might have embellished it a bit."

" _Loki_."

"I mean, what is a 'bit,' anyway? Such a vague word. How I love the ambiguous ones."

When Thor rises to lunge at him, Loki holds out his palms in defense. "It was water, Thor. I swear it. And a simple spell to add flavor and a mind-numbing sedative. It's alcohol without the negative side effects. And as an added bonus, you're magnificently hydrated."

Thor flinches. "Have you touched her?"

Loki's eyebrows lift with a silent question, though he knows damn well who Thor means.

"My daughter," Thor says. "You have been in my house. Her hair is clean, her belly full, her lunch prepared. _Did you touch her, Loki?_ "

Loki's lips press together. "Oh, Thor. You really think that little of me."

"I don't know what to think. I don't know who you are anymore."

"She looks like our mother," Loki says lightly. "So fear not. She will find no harm at my hands. I merely extracted the oil and potato chip crumbs from her hair with a spell and made sure she was adequately nourished. My deepest apologies for living."

Thor's pulse begins to slow. "That is the last thing you should ever apologize to me for. Loki, please—I beg you. Leave her be. Play your tricks on me all you want, but not her. I cannot lose anyone else. Not after mother. And Jane. And _you_."

Loki rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. I promise to behave. At least in regard to her." He flashes a wicked grin.

"You mean to stay then?"

Thor isn't certain what he wants his brother's answer to be. He watches with mixed emotions as Loki leans down to pluck the coffee mug from the dirt. His hair is like the boldest ink smeared against the washed-out backdrop of the desert. No eyes have ever been so piercingly green or unapologetic. No mouth so eager to taunt. Thor's fingers twitch as he tries to swallow down his anger. It's all he can do not to lunge at him again. Though for what purpose, he doesn't know.

"I haven't decided," Loki says, his eyes looking his brother up and down. He takes a step backwards and lifts his chin with a smirk. "I suppose I'll know when it's time to leave. Speaking of which."

He folds his hands behind his back and inclines his upper body in a bow. And then he's gone. But even as Thor's heart aches with sudden loneliness and anger, he knows Loki is still close. His scent is in the air, and Thor fills his lungs with it several times before he finds the will to return to the house.

Back in the kitchen, Thor glares at the bottle, and it almost seems to glare mockingly back. Kicking the chair aside, Thor grasps the bottle at the neck and drops himself on the ground with his back resting against the cabinets.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, he sips at regular intervals until the numbness again comes to comfort him.

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – Hope you enjoyed. If you have a moment, please leave a review. They make me squeak in a most undignified manner. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning** : m/m sex, dubious consent, and mild violence. Those who are sensitive to these things should not read this.

* * *

Chapter Two

The next time Thor is inspired to move, it's because there's a hand slipping under his arm and hauling him off the floor. Sobriety hits him like a bucket of ice water to the face. As his vision sharpens into focus, he recognizes Loki, who pushes him into a chair at the kitchen table.

Loki gives him a hard look that says: _Pull it together._

There are footsteps on the front porch, and a moment later, the door swings open. The little crystals Jane hung on the glass panel dance in the sunlight. Samantha carefully takes off her shoes and lines them up next to her mother's, which Thor has not had the stomach to put away.

"And how was your educational experience?" Loki asks as she enters the kitchen.

Thor stares at his brother in amazement, wondering where the little bastard gets the nerve. He cannot think of anything more abnormal than the scene before him. And yet he doesn't make a move to stop it because he knows he can't provide his daughter the support she needs right now.

Samantha puts her backpack and lunchbox on the table and then peers up at her uncle with an eyebrow hoisted. "You're weird."

Loki's mouth twitches. "Are you hungry?"

She shakes her head.

"Very well. Let's see to your homework, then."

* * *

The next few hours pass in a bizarre fashion.

Loki helps Samantha with her schoolwork, all the while criticizing the menial mental feats they seem to expect from her. And so after they finish her handwriting worksheet, where she has to write each letter of the alphabet ten times, Loki pulls out a fresh sheet of paper and makes her write the words "I am smarter than my teachers realize" ten times instead. It's the first time Thor has seen her smile all week.

Afterward, Loki turns on the television for her. She watches Bugs Bunny with a vacant expression as he chops vegetables in the kitchen for dinner.

"I would not normally approve of the mindless animated nonsense they siphon into the children of Midgard," Loki says to Thor. He tosses a handful of celery and carrots into a pan, where they sizzle and pop in the hot oil. "But I shall give this one a pass. The rabbit is clever."

Thor draws in a breath, his eyes sweeping over his brother's appearance for the hundredth time. He's never seen him wear anything like the tailored but relaxed jeans or the fitted gray t-shirt. His sage-green sweater is folded carefully over the back of the kitchen chair, the air too warm with the stove on. Thor wonders if the strange normality of the Midgardian clothes and hair is on purpose, perhaps to make Samantha feel more at ease. His brother looks so young and unburdened that it makes Thor's heart ache.

"Loki—"

"Thor, if I might make a suggestion." Loki picks up the knife from the cutting board and pauses to let it catch the light. Then he sets about slicing a breast of raw chicken into cubes. "You and I get along much better when we do not speak our minds. Let's keep it nice and shallow, shall we?"

* * *

An hour later, Samantha sits at the kitchen table and looks down at the steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup set before her. Her lower lip protrudes slightly as her eyes turn upward to her uncle and father, who both stand before her, watching with their arms crossed.

"Day four," Loki tells her gently.

She sighs and nods. Then takes her spoon and fishes out a bite of chicken and carrot. Though she does not appear to enjoy it, she chews mechanically and swallows it down. A second bite soon follows. Thor feels the tension in his shoulders relent somewhat.

After she swallows her fourth spoonful, she looks up at Loki for approval, who nods and says, "There's a good girl. Off you go."

Without hesitation or even a backward glance, she slides from the chair and retreats into the living room.

Hours later, after Samantha is tucked into her bed and Loki has finished wiping down the counters, Thor finally speaks.

"She barely ate anything."

Loki rinses his cloth in the sink and takes his time squeezing the water out. Thor watches the muscles in his arms work and wonders what else he's been doing with them.

"Our agreement is that she takes one bite for every day since the funeral," Loki replies. "She'll be fine. A little more so each day." He speaks as if he's had experience with this method.

Thor's eyes shift immediately to her lunchbox, which now sits on the counter. He opens it and finds the fruit and bottle of juice untouched. Her sandwich is nearly whole as well, except for a purposeful bite taken out of each of the four corners. Thor leans his weight against the counter, feeling like he's been punched in the gut. "I do not know what to do. She needs her mother."

Loki takes the lunchbox from him with a shrug. "You'll figure it out. Why don't you sit down and eat something? Your daughter has taken in more sustenance today than you have all week."

Thor sits and watches wordlessly as Loki sets about reheating a bowl of soup for him. He repacks Samantha's lunchbox for the next day in the meantime. Loki is right, Thor realizes. The silence is easier for them. Or shallow words that hold no meaning except a passing observation of the present.

He wonders if it would have been possible for them to develop this sort of relationship sooner but decides the answer is no. Loki will only ever come to him again if Thor has run out of options and needs his help. The realization brings with it a wave of anxiety. He does not want his little brother to leave him again—and he _will_ go eventually, if not tonight, once he feels Thor can make it on his own. They might never see each other again. Loki could die somewhere in a dark corner of an ancient realm, and Thor would never even know. It's enough to make his teeth clench together in frustration at his brother's cruel selfishness.

He is _angry_. The corners of his eyes sting with it.

Though Loki watches him with growing wariness, he keeps his face smooth as he sets a bowl of soup in front of Thor and holds out a spoon. "Day four, brother," he says with the same gentleness as before. It's an echo of a past life that Thor wants nothing more than to reclaim.

Without thinking, his fingers close around Loki's wrist. The spoon clatters to the table. Thor gets to his feet and tugs his brother around until he's in front of him. There's a look of dread upon Loki's face at the sight of Thor's unflinching determination. Loki's obviously not sure what he means to do, and neither is Thor—but he does what first occurs naturally to him and hauls his little brother to his chest in an embrace. When Loki tenses and tries to twist away, Thor grips his hair at the nape of his neck and gives a yank. That, too, comes to him naturally.

" _No_ ," Thor bites out, pulling hard. "Be still, damn you."

Loki sighs but gives in, his body no longer resistant. "Well, this is awkward."

Another tug. "Shut up."

And then his hand relaxes in Loki's hair and smooths it down, coming to cradle the back of his head lovingly instead. And he's so tired of _thinking_ and _hurting_ , and he just wants a quiet moment of peace and warmth and blissful physical contact. Though more than anything, he simply wants his brother.

So he presses his face into the nook behind Loki's ear—where his achingly familiar scent is the most pure—and inhales deeply. His mouth leaves a warm kiss there, and Loki shudders beneath his hands, his throat working hard as he swallows. Something stirs in Thor's belly as he watches it, his brother's scent doing unthinkable things to his mind. He works his hands down Loki's neck and back, massaging and squeezing the muscles gently on the downward descent to his hips. When he presses another kiss behind Loki's ear, his tongue flicks out to taste him there.

Loki gasps, his knees failing him for a brief moment. "Okay, that took an unexpected turn." Recovering quickly, he writhes and pushes against the trap of solid arms and chest. "Thor, we can't just—"

Thor's hand closes over his throat, choking out the remainder of his sentence. His hard, blue eyes deliver the promise of a threat even better than his words. "Stop. _Talking_." And then his head drifts to the side, his eyes closing as he parts his lips against his brother's.

Loki sinks down briefly in Thor's arms, his mouth warm and open, but then he rears his head back and away from the kiss in defiance.

"She will hear us," he hisses, pushing hard against his brother's chest with his palms. "Or walk in and see. For God's sake, Thor, get a grip on yourself."

* * *

Thor shoves him roughly through the doorway of his bedroom. "Get on the bed."

Loki stumbles to a halt and lifts his chin to the heavens with a sigh. "Or what?"

Unbuckling his belt, Thor makes sure the metal parts clink together as he slides it from the loops of his jeans. A wordless threat.

When Loki turns to look at him, his lips are parted as he pants for breath. "At least let me lock the door with a spell and mute the sound of your idiocy."

Thor strips off his shirt while he watches his brother press his palms against the door and whisper a few words. It takes but a second, though Loki tries to make it seem more involved than it really is. Thor grips him by the hair and inspires him to get on with it.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki asks, his head snapped back. "I've kept my promise."

Thor eyes the exposed throat greedily. He might consider answering the question if he had any idea what the truth was—but he has no clue _why_. He just wants contact. He wants to taste his brother's tongue and hear his little sounds of desperation. "I said get on the bed." He pushes Loki toward it again.

Loki obeys. He moves himself backwards toward the pillows, his eyes on Thor, unwilling to turn his back on him again. Thor drops his belt onto the mattress and moves over Loki, keeping the distance between their lips steady as Loki lies back onto the pillow. There's nowhere left to go. After dropping a whisper soft kiss onto his brother's jaw, Thor nudges Loki's thighs apart with his knee and settles between them. Their jeans rub together as they kiss—Thor hungrily, Loki compliantly, letting his mouth stay soft even against Thor's roughness. It's not until his brother's tongue slides against his that Loki's eyes drift shut and a shivering breath eases out of his nose.

Thor's hand drifts between them, and he yanks up the bottom of Loki's shirt. It's so strange to feel his brother's warm skin beneath him, normally so shielded by layer upon layer of leather and metal. He wants to taste every unexplored inch of him. Breaking away from the kiss, he starts at Loki's jawline, dragging his lips upward until he can again inhale the mind-altering scent behind his ear. As he mouths his way down Loki's exposed throat, his hips begin to rock.

"Oh, this is so, so incredibly awkward," Loki says, his chin angled upward to allow Thor room to work. " _Ah_."

Thor bites at the warm, pulsing neck, tempted to choke him again if he doesn't shut up. Instead, he pulls at Loki's shirt, exposing as much flesh as possible without taking it off, and dips his head down to press a kiss over his heart—then lower, licking between the defined muscles of his stomach and abdomen.

"You are an _asshole_ ," Loki hisses out.

"Do I need to gag you?"

A dry chuckle. "You would like that, wouldn't you? Depraved sot. I should have guessed how much you liked it the first time around."

Thor's tongue dips into his brother's belly button, and he loves the way it quakes and shudders beneath him. Like another hungry mouth to kiss. "I did like it. Every time you fight me, I will fight back harder. If you comply, I will be gentle. So you tell me, Loki. Tell me with your quips and your fists or with your kiss how you want me to treat you."

"And what if I say no altogether? Will you kill me?"

Thor laughs without humor. "Now we both know that wouldn't work. Just as we both know you wouldn't still be here if some part of you didn't like it. Your magic would have carried you away instantly. So what is it going to be, brother? Rough or gentle?" He palms Loki's erection through his jeans.

Loki's breath comes out in a rush, and then he's craning his neck upward to meet Thor's mouth again with his own. His little brother's hands are soft on the sides of his face, his mouth sweet and wet with just the slightest tease of mischievous teeth.

 _Both_ , he seems to say.

Thor responds in kind, true to his word that he would give back what Loki asked for. He presses him down on the bed, belly to belly, and lets his brother feel his full weight. His hips rock hypnotically as he cradles the back of Loki's head and licks kisses into his mouth. When Loki tugs at his hair and chuckles, Thor shakes him and growls, showing his teeth. And then it fades into another breathless moment of intoxication at each other's lips.

Thor grinds his erection hard against Loki's jeans and reaches his climax almost too easily. Loki laughs against Thor's mouth as he cries out, but even that fades away as Thor relaxes his weight on top of him and grows still. Hesitant fingers reach to stroke Thor's hair at his neck.

"My brother," Loki whispers. "You are seriously fucked up in the head. How nice to have company at last. I can't breathe, you idiot. Get off."

Thor rolls onto his side, pressing a kiss into Loki's neck as he takes him with him. "I love you," he says, still breathing hard as he hugs him tight. "I love you so damn much, and if you leave me again, I will kill you. I swear I will."

Loki laughs wearily into the cool, damp skin of Thor's shoulder. "Now why does that sound familiar? I'm starting to think all your threats are idle." If not for the glint of the metal belt buckle on the bed beside him, his tone might have been more convincing.

He speaks no more and falls asleep soon after, but Thor lies awake for hours. He thinks he should feel something like guilt—because he still wears Jane's ring and because the last thing he wants to do is hurt or use his little brother—but he feels only relief instead.

It had all come too easily to him.

Loki is right. He is sick.

* * *

To be continued.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: Porn.

* * *

Chapter Three

The sun is not yet up, but through the bedroom window, the eastern horizon has just started to lighten with the promise of morning. The room is dark and hushed save for the quiet whoosh of the heater kicking on.

Thor lies awake. He has not slept a wink but did manage to find rest of a sort, lying there at peace with his little brother. They are tangled up in each other, blissfully lazy and warm beneath a heavy blanket.

Thor is on his side with Loki facing him. His arm rests under his younger brother's neck like a pillow, and his body is angled forward to cocoon Loki protectively. Loki sleeps, his face pressed into Thor's arm, and Thor strokes his jawline with his fingertips, drinking in the sight of his brother so quiet and tranquil. Loki seems exhausted, as if he has not found true rest in many years. When he exhales and shifts, snuggling closer to Thor's warmth, Thor bends his arm at the elbow. The movement pulls Loki's head closer to him, tucking him safely within his embrace.

As Loki begins to stir, he shifts his position slightly again. His hips press forward as if searching for contact. When Thor feels his brother's morning arousal press against his abdomen, his fingers brush against the button of Loki's jeans before he allows himself to think. He unsnaps it and slides his palm down flat against his brother's skin, drawing the zipper open with his wrist. Loki isn't wearing anything underneath, and Thor's fingers soon close over the velvet soft skin that sheathes his brother's erection.

He's long and taut in Thor's hand, built much like Loki himself. Loki gives a soft moan, and by the time Thor has taken him into his palm and started a series of slow pulls, Loki's eyelashes flutter open only slightly. "I am going to kill you," he whispers.

"Shut up," Thor whispers back, but there's no heat in the words. Loki is relaxed and compliant in his arms, and Thor watches hungrily as his brother presses his parted lips into Thor's shoulder, his breaths quickening and growing uneven. Thor works harder but not faster, drinking in his brother's reactions, figuring out what he likes, taking comfort in the little gasps and shudders for reasons he doesn't even understand.

When Loki starts to shift restlessly, breathing curses into his brother's skin, Thor's own arousal stretches painfully against his jeans. But he doesn't move to touch himself or ask Loki to do so either. Witnessing his pleasure is enough—somehow exactly what Thor needs and craves. His eyes are glued to Loki's face—on his dark eyelashes against his cheek and the parted, soft lips he kissed so thoroughly hours earlier. When climax finally takes Loki, Thor memorizes the desperate, pleading arch of his brother's neck and the feel of his warm seed as it spills unto his hand. After Thor's hand stops moving, he doesn't let go of Loki's cock, but his grip softens while his little brother calms. Thor pulls Loki closer and rests his lips against his forehead.

They stay like that, dozing for a few minutes. And then with a sigh, Thor reluctantly moves and reaches over to the nightstand for a box of tissues. He cleans them both up and then lies down again. Flat on his back and separated from his brother. He feels a strange rush of sadness. The moment is gone. His eyes are focused only on the ceiling.

It's Loki who watches him now, lying on his side with his hand resting on the pillow next to his face. "Thor?" he asks quietly after a moment. "Are you well?"

"Why do I want this?" Thor asks the ceiling.

Loki combs a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. The ends curl around his fingers. "Because it feels good. It's sex, Thor. Don't be so dramatic."

"We are brothers."

"Well, I would remind you we technically aren't, but I'm starting to think you rather like that part."

Thor turns his head to look at him. "What's wrong with me?"

"It's called grief," Loki replies, not unkindly. "Your emotions are in turmoil, and you're acting out. Lashing out. Then crashing. You think I mean to leave you so very soon after you lost someone else, and you're hanging on with everything you've got. To my cock, apparently." He huffs out a laugh and rolls onto his back with a smile.

Thor doesn't laugh with him. He only stares, his eyes filled with a sad kind of dread. "And am I wrong? Or do you really mean to stay?"

Loki turns his head to stare back, blinking languidly every few seconds. "Not that my advice means anything to you, but I would try very hard to stop thinking. One foot in front of the other. Mind turned off. It's the only way."

"You would have me stop grieving."

"No. That will never end when you love someone."

Thor grits his teeth. "I don't need _you_ to tell me that."

"I just mean if you start thinking too hard and sinking deeper and deeper into yourself, you run the risk of missing things."

"Like Samantha. And you."

"Well, I don't know about the latter. But yes, the former."

Thor falls silent for a long while. He thinks about his little girl, sleeping only a few rooms over, and he worries about her. Thor knows he's not emotionally capable of being a good father to her right now, and it scares him to death. "I need your help, Loki."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"I want you to promise me you'll stay."

Loki's jaw tightens, and his eyes drift shut as he swallows.

"Please, Loki. If I mean anything to you at all—"

" _All right_. Norns, you can whine."

It's not exactly the promise Thor asked for, but he knows better than to push Loki any further. Thor inches closer, his head coming to rest on the pillow next to his brother's. "Thank you," Thor whispers.

He can't resist touching him for long. His little brother's eyes stay shut as Thor's fingers find his hair and stroke down his warm neck and arm. "You're much gentler when you're drowsy," Thor says. "Sweeter. More like I remember."

"Your memory is poor," Loki mutters into the pillow. "Wait until I have caffeine in my body. You will regret those words."

Thor's hand finds Loki's cheek, his thumb running along his lower lip. "You and I were not always at war, my brother."

Loki's eyes open, golden green in the growing light. "Do you ever shut up?" His hand moves to his brother's waistband, but Thor catches it at the wrist. Loki rolls his eyes. "Really? _Now_ you get shy?"

"What do you mean to do?"

"Well, I thought perhaps some juggling or a lesson in crochet. What do you think?"

After pulling his wrist free, Loki pushes on Thor's shoulder until he lies flat on his back. He kicks the blankets away and slides down the bed, one hand on his brother's thigh while he makes quick work of the button and zipper of Thor's jeans.

"You should consider washing these today," Loki says, indicating the dried mess on the front. "And you're welcome."

Thor watches him warily, not quite ready to trust, but that doesn't stop the sigh of relief that escapes him when Loki tugs his cock free with unflinching boldness. He thinks perhaps his little brother just means to touch him, but he dips his head down instead.

Loki starts with a lingering kiss to the tip, and Thor isn't certain what turns him on more—the feel of his brother's soft lips against his cock or the sight of it. Loki flicks his tongue out next, gently teasing the underside, and Thor is _lost_. He sinks down into the bed, breathing out a string of curses, and Loki turns his eyes up to look at him with a mischievous grin. Then he goes back to work.

He takes his time, teasing with his kisses, licks, and strokes before wrapping his lips around just the head and running his tongue all over it. Thor's fingers grip handfuls of his brother's hair with a moan. Loki makes a small sound of protest, and that inspires Thor's grip to tighten. He has never been so hard in his life. As Loki's mouth takes more of him in, gripping his cock at the base while working his head lower and deeper still, Thor begins to suspect Loki is using magic to literally suck more blood-flow into his cock. He stares at his little brother, unable to do anything but watch and _feel_.

But the best part by far is watching. He could find sex anywhere. Good sex, at that. But this—his brother's wicked little mouth all over him—is deeply, unimaginably satisfying.

Thor grips Loki's hair harder, breathing his name as he stares down at him with hunger. Loki pulls away from Thor's cock with a _pop_ and says, "Would it be too much to ask that you look at the ceiling or perhaps close your eyes altogether? It's like trying to get off back in Asgard, knowing Heimdall is watching."

Thor again rubs his thumb across Loki's pliant lips and then pushes it gently into his mouth. "I don't want to look at the ceiling."

Loki laughs as he sucks on Thor's finger. It pulls away and trails a wet path down his chin and across his jaw. "Out of curiosity, exactly how long have you harbored this lust for me?"

Thor's fingers keep moving along his brother's neck until they close around his throat—still gentle. "Since you started talking back."

"I see," Loki says, his voice vibrating against Thor's palm. "If that's the case, my jaw is going to be very sore indeed by the time I finally depart."

Thor's fingers tighten, the skin around his eyes pinching together. "You are not leaving," he says in a low, ominous tone.

Loki's throat works as he struggles to swallow. "I said I wouldn't," he manages breathlessly. The hand loosens its pressure, and Loki puts his own hand on top of it. He guides it down to his chest, lacing his fingers through Thor's as they relax. "I'm not leaving, brother. Rest now and be still. Let me see to you."

They meet in a mutual kiss, neither certain who moves for it first. Loki uses his free hand to continue to work Thor toward climax, his other hand still interlaced with his brother's. Their mouths open against each other, their tongues meeting and lingering lazily.

There is no urgency in the moment, not even when Thor exhales a sharp gasp, and Loki once more dips his head down. He takes Thor into his mouth again and works until his brother loses himself completely. Like before, it's the sight of Loki going down on him that trumps all else. Thor grips his brother's hair and whispers his name several times in succession, his eyelids drooping, heavy and sated. His thumbs move to stroke Loki's cheekbones lovingly as his brother swallows in obedience.

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – Mmm, lazy morning sex. Hope you enjoyed. If you have a moment, I'd love to hear your thoughts. (Which do you like better—rough or gentle? I can't seem to choose, myself.) Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I know Loki is a bad guy, but in mythology, he's also a parent. There are no malicious intentions here with Samantha. None, zip, zero. She is there to keep them from killing each other and to give them something else to focus on outside of their issues. In my head, I picture Loki as being very protective of his children, and I've therefore extended that protection to his niece. I haven't heard of anyone squirming out there, but I hope that helps you relax just in case you were worrying. :)

Warning: Dubious consent, violence, and potentially triggering elements.

It is so, so very odd to write _that_ warning after _that_ author's note. And yet here we are. Welp!

* * *

Chapter Four

True to his word, Loki becomes far more antagonistic once he's had his morning coffee. He's already downed one cup and is halfway through the second when he reappears in the bedroom while Thor dresses.

"Rule number one," Loki says, holding up a finger right in his brother's face. "Unless we are magically sealed in this room or alone in this house with the front door sealed, you are not to touch me. I am not to be held responsible for the corruption of that little girl in there. Do you understand?"

Thor bats his brother's hand away as he zips up a pair of clean jeans. His eyes are on Loki's mouth, which is talking back to him again. He had warned his little brother about that. "Agreed."

"I mean it, Thor. Don't even look at me. You've been doing it since I arrived. Eyes above the waist. Better yet, eyes above my head. Rule number two. No talking about anything remotely having to do with our past. I can handle you needing to talk about your wife, but if I hear anything else, I will be gone before you make it to the second syllable."

Thor takes a folded shirt out of his dresser drawer and looks down at it sadly. "You truly mean for us never to reconcile, then?"

Loki snorts and drinks from his cup of coffee as if it soothes his nerves. "Please. Your daughter does not need to witness _that_ particular fight, and I think one or both of us might not survive it. We are brothers. We get over it when there's need. We can kill each other later. I want your promise."

Thor is silent as he tugs the shirt over his head. His heart feels impossibly heavy.

Loki hisses out a curse through his teeth. "Very well. Then know once you start inevitably yammering on about it that you've essentially asked me to leave. This coffee is terrible. Haven't you any sense of pride in your household?" After draining his cup, he turns and stalks out of the bedroom in a mood.

Once he's alone, Thor's shoulders sag. His arms hang heavy at his sides. Though he can't explain it, he feels as if Loki stole the very air out of the room when he left.

* * *

Loki makes Samantha a Belgian waffle for breakfast. He cuts it up into exactly five pieces, places a strawberry slice on each one, and dribbles on a bit of honey to make it more appealing to her.

"Day five," he reminds her as he sets the plate down.

The little princess looks down at her breakfast and then up at him with reddened cheeks. She is not impressed with his attempts to trick her into eating larger bites. "That's _cheating_. _"_

"Indeed it is," Loki admits as he sits in the chair across from her. "Dearest niece, I am afraid your uncle is a very badly behaved individual. I look to you to teach me by example and show me how to be good and pure. You can start by eating your promised five bites of breakfast like the obedient little angel I know you to be."

Samantha picks up her fork, shoots him a defiant glare, and stabs a strawberry. She eats only that and gets another strawberry while she chews. Loki's mouth twitches into a smile, which he quickly hides behind his hand. He watches her eat just the five berries and ignore the waffle altogether.

"Day five," she says as she puts down the fork. "I know how to cheat, too."

Loki's lips are pressed tightly together to stifle his laughter as Samantha slides out of her chair. He gets up to fetch her lunchbox for her and pretends not to notice when she sneaks back to grab two pieces of the waffle. She hides them in a napkin, which she covertly slips into her coat pocket, before turning to take the lunchbox from him with an angelically sarcastic smile.

Loki's shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as she marches out of the front door. When Thor comes to stand beside him, Loki says, "I find I've grown rather fond of my niece. Thor, she is _brilliant_."

Thor moves to follow his daughter. His heart still feels strangely hollow, but he ignores it for the present, at least long enough to get her onto the school bus. He looks back at Loki over his shoulder and says, "Hurt her, and I will grind you into a greasy stain on the floor."

"Believe me, brother. If I ever brought her to harm, I would allow you to."

* * *

Thor's hand lovingly strokes Samantha's head while they wait for the bus. Her cheeks are filled with a hasty bite of waffle.

"Does your uncle make you uncomfortable at all?"

She swallows and huffs out a sigh as she balls up her empty napkin. "He thinks he's _so smart_."

"Because if he does, I will ask him to leave."

Samantha looks up at him, her blue eyes uncertain. "He's going to leave?"

Thor frowns at her sudden uneasiness. He hadn't considered that she might become attached to Loki, though he probably should have. Loki was easy enough to ignore when he was around, but the moment he was gone, the empty hole he left in his place was indescribably painful. "I think he means to stay, actually, which is why I'm asking you. He can only stay if you allow it."

There are hints of tears in Samantha's eyes, but as she processes her father's words, she blinks them away. Her eyes turn instead to the school bus, which is stopped further down the street, lights flashing. "He can have the guest bedroom, I guess," she says, handing him her empty napkin.

Thor strokes her hair again, but Samantha shoos his hand away now that the bus is approaching. "Has he been kind to you?" Thor asks.

Samantha shrugs and kicks at the ground. "He's not mean. He cooks okay."

"And you will tell me if you are ever uncomfortable or if he's mean to you?"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm not stupid."

Thor stoops down, pulling her close with the intention of giving her a goodbye kiss. "I didn't say you were. I love you, Sam."

She rears away from his kiss and pushes until he lets go. Thor stares at her, his arms cold and empty. As she gets on the bus without saying goodbye, he's left wondering what he did wrong.

* * *

"Thor?" Loki asks quietly.

There is no reply. Thor has taken up residence on the couch, arms wrapped around his middle like he has a stomachache. He stares into nothing.

Loki sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. "I'm going out. If I'm to stay here, I need to acquire some things. So try not to panic once I'm gone and wring my neck when I reappear. Are you even listening to me?"

Thor's eyes drift shut. "Is there alcohol?"

"I rather think you've had enough."

Loki says more after that, but Thor doesn't listen. Eventually the energy in the house changes, and Thor knows he's alone.

The phone rings several times. The answering machine picks up Pepper Potts' message to call her if he needs anything—as well as a plea to reconsider moving closer to his friends. He hears the words, but nothing registers. He just feels cold as he tries to understand why everyone always leaves him behind, choosing instead to go where he can't follow.

* * *

Loki returns in a flurry of motion. He sets down shopping bags on the kitchen table and wears a breathless smile. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed from the sunny winter chill of the desert.

"Thor, isn't it about time you extracted yourself from your ennui?"

Thor's eyes shift in his direction. His brother is dressed strangely albeit stylishly, wearing black skinnies, a wool coat with a high-necked collar, and an ornate scarf. But the house is warm, and so Loki pulls off the scarf and folds it carefully. The coat soon follows, revealing the expensive cut of a well-tailored white dress shirt. A black vest and tie finish off the look. New Mexico's style is far more relaxed. Loki would have stuck out like a sore thumb in this outfit, which was likely his intent upon choosing it.

"I come with glad tidings," Loki says with a smile. He pulls a large box from a bag, revealing a brand new espresso machine. He points at the old coffeemaker accusingly. "That insufferable device must come to ruin."

Thor exhales and closes his eyes again. He wonders where his little brother got the money but simply doesn't care enough to ask. He just wants to sleep.

"Thor?"

Silence.

"Are you really just going to lie there all day and night? Get up. Have a little pride."

No response.

Loki sighs and looks around helplessly. Then he unbuttons his vest and places it carefully to the side before he mutters, "Norns, help me. This is going to hurt."

Gritting his teeth, his hand moves out in a gesture of attack. Green energy shoots toward Thor, who is suddenly overtaken by a kind of electric shock. It steals his breath away, lighting his very senses on fire as he writhes. When it finally leaves him, Thor jumps off of the couch with a roar. Loki doesn't even hesitate before breaking into a run.

Thor has Loki by the throat before he makes it to the backdoor, and they go down together to the ground, wrestling and struggling. Thor pins Loki's hips with his lower body while he twists his brother's arms behind his back.

"I was just trying to get you up," Loki begs him. "I meant no harm! _I swear_."

Thor holds both of Loki's wrists together with one hand, and uses his free one to unbuckle his belt. Loki gasps and starts struggling harder. The movement feels good against Thor's growing erection.

"Thor, listen to me . . ."

"I'm listening," Thor seethes, ripping his belt free of the loops. His hand pulls hard on the waistband of Loki's pants. "I just don't care."

The button on Loki's pants doesn't stand a chance. It pops off and the zipper gives way easily after that. "Thor," Loki pleads, writhing as Thor drags the fabric down, exposing his little brother's muscled, pale flesh to him. "What are you doing?"

Thor snaps the belt and brings it down hard on Loki's ass—three strikes in quick succession—and Loki is left breathless and reeling from the blows, too stunned to even speak. Thor exhales in pleasure, palming one of the cheeks in his hand as the red marks begin to surface on it. He unzips his pants and tugs down harder on Loki's, exposing more enticing flesh to torture.

He maneuvers Loki up onto his knees but pushes his shoulders down so that his brother's head is still resting on the carpet. There is too much fabric hiding Loki's skin from him, so Thor roughly pulls on the shirt until his brother cries out. The necktie prevents the dress shirt from coming off, and Thor growls as he tugs it away. The shirt comes next, as well as an undershirt, and Loki has to twist his neck and arms to get out of it all at the speed Thor demands. Thor reestablishes the grip he has on Loki's wrists and binds them together behind his brother's back, making use of the discarded necktie. Thor tugs down his zipper and readies himself.

Loki makes a sound of panic as he feels his brother's erection push against him. It's soon apparent that he's too tense to allow it to happen. His legs quiver, knees ready to give way.

"Let me in," Thor hisses—and then he slaps Loki's ass so hard that his palm throbs afterward. Then he does it again and again until Loki goes lax with pain and desperation. When the head of his cock finally pops in, Thor exhales in quiet wonder while Loki's knees slide open wider.

"Thor, I can't . . . I can't . . . you're too . . ."

But Thor isn't listening. His hips have started to rock, his fingers tightening on Loki's imprisoned wrists. He sacrifices his grip so that he can place one hand on Loki's bright red cheek to spread it wider. It's an amazing thing to be able to see himself working in and out of his brother, who is already stretched wide to accommodate just a fraction of his girth. Thor's hand rubs over Loki's hot, red skin in reverent wonder. Then he slaps it hard.

Loki gasps and cries out his brother's name in desperation.

Every time Loki tightens in pain from one of Thor's strikes, he reels and relaxes soon after, which allows Thor to slip just a bit deeper. And so he keeps doing it—with Loki trembling and cursing beneath him, nearly flush with the ground, legs tangled in his pants, his skin enflamed and beautiful—until Thor is finally fully sheathed within. Loki gives up, his body going fully lax beneath him. Thor lets his brother's wrists go, though they are still tied behind his back.

"I'm going to kill you," Loki gasps into the floor. He hisses out other threats and insults while Thor ruts into him. He tries to fight when he can find the strength, but it's a futile effort. Thor is so deep inside of him that getting away seems impossible. But not even that stops Loki from speaking his mind.

And yet Thor can't help but notice that the one thing Loki never says is _stop_.

Despite the show his little brother is putting on for him, Thor knows exactly what Loki is doing. He's surprised the little bastard doesn't turn around and smirk triumphantly at him.

"You asked for this," Thor tells him, twisting his fingers in Loki's hair. "So shut your mouth and take it. Fight back again. I dare you. Let's see what happens when you do." His free hand slaps Loki's ass cheek without pity.

Loki's threats dissolve into outright pleading soon after. It pisses Thor off that Loki is so talented at this—at playing the part of the victimized submissive lover. Loki gasps and moans and begs in just the right way, all the while angling his hips upward to allow Thor better passage. It's infuriating, and Thor pounds into him harder in punishment. The feeling is indescribable.

"You've done this before. Who was it, Loki?" _Slap_.

"I haven't!"

_Slap slap twist._

"Don't lie to me."

Though both of them know Loki should keep doing exactly that. That way, Thor can punish him for it.

"Brother, please!"

Thor scrapes his nails down Loki's back so that he can see more reddened, marked skin. Loki writhes and cries out beneath him, and Thor can tell from the way his brother clenches up that he's climaxed into the floor. Though he hadn't given him permission to do so, the sight of Loki coming does Thor in as well. He pulls out and spills his seed onto Loki's tortured flesh because he wants to see it. It's a satisfying sight—the tiny beads of moisture clinging to Loki's skin.

Thor's hands become gentler, smoothing curiously over the angry marks he made. After he calms, he uses Loki's undershirt to clean his brother up, and then he unties Loki's hands so that he can slip away. Loki shakes visibly as he stumbles to his feet and tugs up his pants.

Thor knows it's an act, but that doesn't stop him from asking, "Did I hurt you?"

Loki snorts as he zips up. His button is gone and so his pants sag low on his hips. He is beautiful. "Oh, that is _rich_ ," Loki bites out. "I'm not going to answer that."

"Why not?"

Loki spins around, green eyes practically murderous. "Because if I say no, I don't want you to _try harder_."

Thor gets to his feet and zips up as well. "I know you can handle pain, but I would never want to push it past a certain point. I need you to tell me."

"No, Thor. You didn't. Very little hurts me anymore."

Thor flinches. "What do you mean by that?"

Loki ignores him. "I would, however, like to establish a safe word." At Thor's confused expression, he explains. "It's a word we agree upon. When I say it, you stop whatever it is you're doing and back away immediately. Moreover, you remove anything that happens to be on me, around me, or _in_ me before doing so."

"You could just tell me to stop, Loki. I would listen."

"The point of having a safe word is so that you can ignore those pesky little words like ' _no'_ and ' _don't'_ and ' _please, not there_.' Sometimes the struggle is the best part."

Thor feels a fresh twinge of arousal low in his abdomen. Again, he has the suspicion that Loki has done this before, and it infuriates him. "A safe word, then."

"How about 'All-Father'?" Loki suggests, his teeth flashing derisively. "That's sure to kill your lust in an instant. Unless, of course, you're more perverted than even I imagined."

Thor shuts his eyes briefly and tries to calm his fury. His fingers itch for a neck to strangle.

"You know, I bought something else today at the store that I am just _dying to show you_ ," Loki says, radiating fury. He marches over to the kitchen table, pulls a little bottle out of a bag, and holds it up so his brother can see. "It's called _LUBRICANT._ "

With that, he pitches the bottle at Thor, and it bounces soundly off of his forehead.

Thor is stunned for a brief moment—before he crouches and growls, fingers clenching inward.

The level of Loki's shoulders drops. His eyes grow huge and round. "Well, fuck. I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

If Loki's speed is somewhat lacking in his flight to get away from Thor's rage, neither of them mention it. It's all part of the game.

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – Thank you for reading!

I'm not sure if the description "emotional hurt/comfort" really works for this story. Is there such a thing as "manipulative little bastard hurt/comfort"?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N – I've received a few requests for Loki's POV, and I actually did try this chapter that way at first because I adore writing him. But I don't know—it just didn't feel right. I think this is big brother's story. :) _Bargaining_ belongs to Loki.

Warning – dubious consent and sexual content.

* * *

Chapter Five

Thor turns the shower as hot as it will go and welcomes the way it bites at his skin. Steam rises from his shoulders, loosening the stiffness there. He bends his neck back and then slowly lets it roll forward until the burning stream of water pours directly onto the crown of his head. It feels good on his sore muscles—even better on his mind—but if he's hurting this badly, he can't imagine how Loki feels.

Even though Thor's eyes fixate on the water pooling at his feet, he barely sees it. He doesn't know what the hell he thinks he's doing.

" _Stop thinking," Loki had whispered, his lips spread against Thor's in his wicked little smile. "Fuck me."_

All of it is beyond perverse, and somehow that's the best part. An itch begging for nails to scrape at it.

The day has been spent beneath the sheets, hands and mouths exploring, their bodies slick and relaxed after hours of play. Thor's mouth tingles at the memory; his lips are swollen and well used. He's spent hours with them occupied by some part of his brother, whether it was his neck or the hollow beneath his hipbone or whatever else presented itself.

Thor has never wanted to dominate someone so badly, but it's a near impossible task. As submissive as Loki pretends to be at times, he will never stop fighting back. Thor wants to hold his brother down until he has no will left but Thor's—because then maybe Loki will finally _stop_. Maybe he'll stay and _listen_ and understand how much Thor wants him there.

Loki plays his part well, taunting with his eyes and words but fighting back only hard enough to motivate Thor to hold on tighter. Loki lets his brother dominate him, but it's not out of weakness. They both know he will never be tamed—just as they both know he will eventually leave.

There, alone in the shower with water dripping from his hair and downturned face, Thor lets himself cry for the first time since the funeral. It hurts—all of it—knowing she's gone forever and that his brother is soon to follow. The shower washes away the evidence of Thor's grief almost immediately, and although it seems impossible, he feels a bit lighter and more like himself by the time he's ready to shut the water off.

He dries his body with a towel he doesn't remember washing and dresses in clean clothes he doesn't remember folding. Everywhere is evidence of Loki's unspoken attempts to take care of him while he grieves. Thor's chin lifts as he finds his reflection in the mirror. His face seems much older than it should be, but he feels more centered now—less like he's breathing in poisoned air intent on clouding his mind. His heart will never be whole again, but he will live on.

At least until Loki leaves.

* * *

When Thor emerges from the bathroom, his eyes immediately find Loki where he lies sleeping on the bed. The blanket is kicked to the floor, but the sheets have somehow managed to survive their early afternoon activities. The thin white cotton is draped over Loki's lower half, wrinkled and creased in the most distracting places. He's naked, asleep on his stomach, lips parted and soft. His fingers grip the bottom sheet, tensed even in sleep. He looks cold.

It's the second time Thor has noted how exhausted Loki appears. It's not like him to fall asleep so immediately and deeply, as though he's starved for it. Loki's active mind has always kept him awake long after everyone else has drifted off into their dreams. Thor worries as he wonders where his brother has been all these years, but he knows Loki will never tell him. At least he's home for now, and that's something to be glad for.

Thor stoops to retrieve the blanket from the floor and tugs it back into place on the bed. It's a shame to cover up Loki's skin, which Thor has seen so seldom in his life. As he sits on the edge of the bed beside his brother, Loki groans and shifts the direction of his head until his face is buried into the pillow.

The way his fingers tighten around the sheets brings about memories.

" _My brother," Thor had whispered in Loki's ear as he took him. The endearment is sin itself. Not simply Loki's name but the very reason he shouldn't want this. Loki had groaned when Thor had said it, gripping the sheets hard as he exhaled in pleasure—then he'd laughed to cover up his slip._

Thor wants to smile at the recollection but struggles to remember how. His hand brushes over Loki's bare shoulder, remembering how he'd suckled and nipped at his brother's skin with his teeth. The marks are gone now.

"Back slowly away from my ass," Loki mutters into the pillow. "Else I be tempted to rid you of yours."

Thor's smile comes to him effortlessly then. Undeterred by the threat, his hand slips lower, drawing the blanket down as his palms come to rest on the smooth expanse of his brother's back. Loki inhales sharply and tenses up as Thor begins to massage.

"Easy," Thor says. "I only punish you when you misbehave. Act like this, and you need not fear me."

Loki scoffs and turns his face to the side so that his cheek again rests on the pillow. "Yes, that will most certainly inspire me to turn over a new leaf."

The tension in Loki's muscles is difficult to diffuse, but eventually Thor manages it. His hands are sizeable, always a bit too warm, but they serve him well for this task. Soon Loki's stiffness melts beneath the pressure of his brother's fingers.

"I suppose when I finally kill you one day, I will show mercy and make your death reasonably painless," Loki says. His eyes close as Thor finds a sore spot beneath his left shoulder blade. "Yes, right there."

Thor draws down the blanket further. Goosebumps spring up on Loki's skin, and Thor soothes them away with the warmth of his palms. The blanket is now around Loki's waist, and Thor's enjoyment in the moment soon vanishes. He hadn't spotted it before, but there in the middle of Loki's back near his spine is a thin scar, several inches in length. It's from the blade that pierced his brother in Svartalfheim—the one that had supposedly killed him.

Thor has no idea how Loki survived such a wound. He knows he should be angry with Loki for not letting him know he lived on, but Thor is so grateful that his little brother's heart still beats that he can't muster up the will to challenge him over the betrayal. At least for the present. One day, Thor will ask him what happened and where he's been, but it's far too soon for that. Loki is right. The fight that would no doubt follow might very well kill one of them.

"I do prefer it when you don't incite my anger," Thor says quietly as his thumb runs across the scar. He's willing to bet there's a similar one on Loki's chest. "I enjoy being gentle with you."

Loki chuckles, turning his head so that Thor can see the way his lips curl into a smile. "Just as much as you liked laying into me with your belt, I think."

Thor might be more inspired to feel guilty over the words if Loki hadn't shifted his hips at that moment in a very mind-befuddling way. The marks Thor's belt had left on Loki's skin had healed quickly, but Thor remembers how they had burned hot beneath his curious hands. He wants to do it all over again every time Loki mocks his affection so openly, but despite his words and actions, Thor can sense his brother wants gentleness now. Loki soaks up the physical attention hungrily, just as he had his moments of sleep. He's starving for it.

The question is on his lips: _Where have you been, brother?_

But instead, Thor asks, "Is any of this enjoyable at all? Does it mean anything to you?"

With an impatient sigh, Loki rolls over onto his back and brings an arm to rest casually behind his neck. "As I've stated before, it's _sex_. Is it really that hard to turn your brain off?"

Thor's eyes fall to Loki's chest and find the matching scar—the entry wound of Kurse's blade. His hands feel empty without his brother's skin beneath them. "Yes," he says.

Loki smirks as he always does when he feels the need to protect himself against emotion. "That was a trick question. I'll leave you to guess why, though the punch line suggests you won't be able to."

"I'm familiar with sex, Loki. I know the difference between that and this."

The smirk degrades into an outright sneer. "And what do you think this is? _Making love?_ You're pathetic."

Thor's brow knits with skepticism. Little more than an hour ago, their foreheads had come together as they rode the slow wave to their climax. They had inhaled each other's breath. Thor is just as familiar with intimacy as he is with sex, but perhaps Loki isn't—or else he's trying his best not to show Thor that he feels the connection as well.

"You are lucky my temper has burned out," Thor says.

"Hmm," Loki says, eyeing his brother up and down. "For once we agree."

Thor's hand closes around his brother's wrist. "Don't say it like that. I will always stop if you ask me to."

Loki twists his arm away with a dismissive laugh. "And therein lies the catch. I wouldn't ask."

"Why?"

"Because you need it, and I can handle it."

"I don't want you to handle it. I want you to enjoy it."

Loki's smile remains unfazed, his eyes bright with rebelliousness, as if nothing would give him more pleasure than mocking Thor's every word. "Look at you," Loki says. "Upright and talking. Showered and dressed. If you eat something, you might just start looking like a god again. Who knew my ass had such magical, therapeutic qualities? Or is it my tongue that did the trick?"

"Is it really necessary to deflect every ounce of affection aimed at you?" Thor asks.

"Well, yes. I find it to be an unpleasant, soggy sort of thing. Very cumbersome and dull."

Thor smiles at his brother, but his teeth clench behind his lips. "I think you feel more than you let on."

Loki laughs, refusing to be drawn in or intimidated by Thor's growing anger. "I admit, I feel quite a bit in my nether regions right now. Thank you so very much for the honor."

Thor's fingers curl around his brother's knee. "You're talking back to me again."

"Right. Well, then." Loki pushes Thor's hand aside and is careful not to touch his brother again as he exits the bed. Without another word, he heads to the bathroom for a shower.

* * *

"Are you fighting?" Samantha asks them later that night over dinner.

The three of them sit at the kitchen table, Thor and Loki at opposite ends with Samantha in the middle. Loki has prepared a meal of roasted chicken with potatoes, vegetables, and a salad, but Samantha won't touch a bite of it. She sits with a half-eaten bowl of strawberries before her instead. Her lips and fingers are stained red.

Thor looks at Loki, who avoids his brother's gaze as he chases a green bean around his plate with a fork.

"Of course not," Thor assures his daughter. His mood and focus have improved considerably since he's finally eaten something substantial, but the tension between the brothers is still palpable. It's no wonder his daughter has picked up on it. "Your uncle and I were just, um. Well, you see, we were—"

"The answer is yes, dearest niece," Loki says with a tight smile. "Your father and I are fighting."

Samantha's blue eyes narrow, cautious with a hint of distress. "About what?"

Loki looks up at her, and Thor watches the hard edge of his brother's expression soften. "Well, your father likes things a certain way," Loki replies. "And I like doing the opposite because I find humor in it."

"Are you going to leave?" Samantha asks. Her face hasn't lost the lingering doubt, despite Loki's attempt to lighten the conversation.

Loki sighs as he sets his fork down. His hands fold together in front of him. "It's not that kind of fight. Thor and I are family. We can say things to each other that other people can't. Similar to the way you could throw that strawberry at your father at this very moment, and he would still love you afterward. I do hope you choose that large one sitting right there on the top. It does look like it might leave a nice, juicy, red mark."

A tiny smile tugs at Samantha's lips. "You don't look like my dad. Aren't you supposed to?"

Loki hesitates, something unnamable shining in his eyes for a brief moment. A beat later, he says, "We are not related by blood."

The admission surprises Thor. Immediately, he opens his mouth to tell his brother how little that matters to him, but Samantha speaks up first.

"What does that mean?" she asks, her little fingers fiddling with a strawberry stem.

"Sit up straight, and don't play with your food," Loki says. "It means I am adopted. We were raised by the same parents, and that is why we consider ourselves brothers."

Samantha sits up a bit straighter. "But you're not real brothers?"

"That is correct," Loki says.

"Oh." She takes a bite of her strawberry and chews thoughtfully for a while. Once she swallows, she says to Thor, "We should adopt a brother for me."

Thor smiles at her. His daughter's reply had assuaged his brother's otherwise dispassionate summary of their relationship. "Perhaps one day we will," Thor says.

Samantha pushes her bowl away. "I've eaten more than five bites, and that's all I promised to do. Can I go now?"

"Wash your hands first," Loki says. "With soap. Not saliva."

Samantha licks juice off of her thumb with a smirk of defiance that reminds Thor very much of Loki when he was a child—innocent mischief devoid of any bitterness. Despite Loki's best attempts to appear stern, his eyes sparkle with amusement as Samantha leaves the table. But all of that fades when the brothers exchange a glance.

Loki's eyes quickly dart away. He retrieves his fork and stabs at his salad. "There," he says, his tone clipped. "Was that really so difficult?"

Thor has never understood why Loki has taken the revelation of his adoption so hard. The lies must sting, of course, and Loki is entitled to his sense of betrayal. But regardless of all that, they were still a family until Loki decided they weren't.

"You care for Sam already," Thor says, "and yet she is no relation to you. Is it so difficult to think our parents felt any differently about you?"

Loki's answering laugh is riddled with bitterness. He wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin and drops the cloth onto his half-finished plate of food. "Thor, our conversation has grown increasingly personal of late. I think it best to take my leave of it before I leave for good. Remember my rules."

* * *

The evening hours pass somewhat uncomfortably, with Thor sitting at the desk in the living room, attempting to sort through the hopeless piles of mail, sympathy cards, and past due bills. Loki, meanwhile, has taken up residence on the couch and thumbs through one of Jane's books on molecular geometry. His expression is exasperated, as if he wants nothing more than to rip pages out or perhaps to scribble corrections in the margins.

Samantha comes up beside Loki and tugs on the sleeve of his white button-down shirt. His eyebrows lift in her direction. "I thought you were already in bed," he says. "It's quite late."

"My tummy hurts," Samantha says. Her face is downcast, her fingers squeezing and releasing the fabric of Loki's sleeve.

Loki looks at his brother, who has already risen from his chair at the desk. Thor kneels behind his daughter and gently spins her around to face him. As he feels her cheeks and forehead for a temperature, Loki's hand moves over her head, a soft green glow falling over her. Thor recognizes the familiar glimmer of a healing spell—otherwise, he might have thrown his little brother through the window. Loki meets Thor's eyes and nods.

"And now?" Thor asks. "Does it still hurt?"

Samantha nods miserably. She inches back in Loki's direction and turns away from her father. Thor's heart pangs in reply. He doesn't understand why she's pushing him away. He's doing the best he can.

"Hmm," Loki says as he closes the book. "Well, this is indeed a mystery. Let's see if we can determine what is amiss." He sits up straight and taps a finger to his chin, making a show of examining her. "Now that I look a bit closer, I do see something rather strange. Goodness, however did _that_ get in there?"

Thor frowns and shifts his weight, watching his brother carefully. He can tell Loki is only playing with Samantha, probably just to distract her from her unhappiness. If she were truly ill, the healing spell would have fixed the problem instantly—but Thor still worries for her.

Samantha's eyes widen as Loki makes a gesture a few inches away from her heart. An illusion forms in the air before her, crimson energy appearing to draw out of her body until it spins and comes together in the form of a glowing flower. The petals are made of tiny glittering dots of light, some brighter than others, much like the stars in the night sky.

"This will surely cause an upset stomach," Loki says as he inspects it. "Good thing we found it." He offers her the flower, which floats in his hand an inch above his skin.

Thor feels a rush of gratitude to his brother as he watches his daughter accept the gift, her fingers trembling with excitement and awe. The look of distress is gone from her face until only wonder remains. After she has thoroughly examined it, her lips press together. She looks at Loki hard and says, "This wasn't _really_ inside of me."

Loki tries to fight a smile but fails. "Dearest niece, you are simply too clever to be trifled with."

"Can I keep it?" Samantha asks.

"You _may_ keep it," Loki corrects. "However, it will fade when the sun rises. Such magic is only meant for nightfall, but I will make you another tomorrow if you like."

Samantha's face lights up again at the word _magic_. "A blue one?" As she says the words, thin wisps of blue light begin to spread through the many petals of the flower.

Loki's eyes narrow with interest. "As you wish. Why don't you go find a suitable place for it in your room? It will cast starlight on your walls if you turn off the lights."

With a delighted gasp, Samantha runs off as if she's never felt sick a day in her life.

"She is not truly ill?" Thor asks when she's out of earshot.

Loki shakes his head. "I suspect our arguing has upset her. Perhaps we require a third rule. Such things should be kept behind sealed doors."

"Or we could simply cease our arguments altogether," Thor says.

"Oh, yes," Loki laughs. " _That_ is likely to happen. Rule three, it is—no quarrelling in front of your daughter. She has our mother's gift, you know. Did you see the way she manipulated my spell?"

Thor stands from his kneeling position and nods. "There have been incidents since she was quite small. Minor things, like what you witnessed. Usually when she's unfocused and excited."

"She will need to learn to control it." Loki sets aside Jane's book and brings a hand to his lips, nibbling at his thumb while he ponders the problem. "I could teach her the basics at the very least. I don't think she realizes what she's doing. Though once she's aware, she will likely attempt to do it more often. She is at a most delicate age."

"Yes, I remember the early days of your magic lessons," Thor says. "Everything I owned either turned green or was mysteriously glued to random surfaces throughout the palace. I trust you with her, Loki, but I don't want you to teach her if you're only going to leave. She has already grown attached to you."

Loki snorts, giving Thor a skeptic look as he gets to his feet. "That's improbable."

"Not as much as you seem to think," Thor says. "If you won't stay for me, then do it for her. To teach her."

Though they stand separated by a few feet, it suddenly feels as though they've drawn closer. Loki looks at him, an unreadable expression on his face as he asks, "Why do you think I wouldn't stay for you? I came, did I not?" The words do not exactly resonate with affection, but they are unusually kind for Loki.

Thor moves forward at once and pulls his brother into an embrace, one hand wrapped around Loki's middle, the other protectively covering the back of his neck. He says the words he should have spoken the first moment he'd realized his little brother was there. "Thank you, Loki."

Loki exhales a sharp, impatient sigh. His arms are rigid at his sides as Thor hugs him close, but he allows it to go on without attempting to push away. "I'm sorry," he says after a beat. "I am trying. Truly, I am. But this kind of display is still unspeakably awkward."

"Hush," Thor says as he presses his mouth to Loki's temple. "Stop thinking so hard about it. Isn't that what you always tell me?"

"I suppose it is." Another sigh escapes his little brother, but this one is more resigned. The tension in Loki's body relents somewhat as he relaxes his head against the warm pressure of his brother's mouth. "You're welcome, Thor," he says at last.

* * *

Once Samantha has finally drifted off to sleep, lulled at last by the slowly dancing starlight on her walls, Thor shuts her door and guides Loki to his bedroom. His hand still lingers on the back of his little brother's neck—both possessive and protective. The mood has shifted between them, driven by the rare glimmer of warmth Loki has allowed Thor to witness. Loki's neck and shoulders are tense beneath Thor's hand as if to say he already regrets it.

As soon as Loki closes the master bedroom door and whispers a spell upon it, Thor turns him around. He draws close, pressing Loki against the door with the weight of his body. His fingers find Loki's downturned face to urge it gently upward, and Thor runs his thumb across the anxious set of his brother's jaw. Thor's advances aren't as rushed and overwrought as they were earlier. He's calmer now. More focused on what he really craves.

Loki tries to jerk his chin away but is unsuccessful. "Will you just get on with it?"

The soft pad of Thor's thumb adjusts its path to rub across Loki's lower lip. Thor moves to kiss him—warm, sweet, and unhurried. His hands fall to his little brother's shoulders and slide down his arms.

Loki's eyes clamp shut, and when he opens them again, they're aimed at the ceiling in distressed annoyance. "This is not quite what I meant," he whispers between kisses.

He touches Thor's growing erection through his jeans, but Thor catches his hand, wanting to take this slow. He's beginning to sense exactly how difficult intimacy is for Loki to endure. "What are you so afraid of?"

When Loki's eyes return to his brother, they are all pupil in the darkness. "This is not fear, Thor. I am simply _bored_." He pushes at Thor's chest until at last he can slip free of his grasp.

While Loki unbuttons his shirt, Thor strips off his own. Loki is careful to keep his gaze fixed anywhere but on his brother, but the tight set of his shoulders reveals he knows Thor watches him. Thor catches Loki by the waistband of his pants before he has a chance to unzip them, and he pulls his little brother's back flush against his chest. Their bodies mold together well—Thor's cock pressed up against his brother's ass. The taste of Loki's exposed neck on Thor's tongue is just as good.

Loki is beginning to find a comfortable rhythm now, and his back arches into his brother as Thor slips a hand down Loki's abdomen to find the button of his pants. Thor makes quick work of it and goes in search of more. "Fuck," Loki whispers as Thor takes his erection in hand. He licks his lips and leans his weight back against his brother. " _Finally_. It took you long enough."

"Hush." Thor holds Loki against him with one palm flat on his stomach while he strokes his cock with the other. He presses his face to Loki's neck and nips at the pulse that beats there, a little quicker with each passing second. "Finish undressing. I want you on the bed."

Loki's movements are a bit uncoordinated as he pushes his pants off of his hips. They fall to the floor, and he steps out of them, nearly tripping before Thor catches and steadies him. They stagger forward until Loki's knees hit the bed. He turns and sits on the edge, his breaths coming hard through his parted lips as he watches Thor unbuckle his belt. Loki leans forward to lick his brother's arousal through the rough fabric of his jeans, and Thor sighs with frustrated desire.

Impatient with Thor's speed, Loki pulls at the belt and the fastenings of the jeans until at last Thor's cock springs free before his face. It's in Loki's hand at once, but before he can take it into his mouth, Thor grips his brother's chin and angles his face upward for a kiss. Loki is thrown off momentarily, but he keeps the set of his lips open and soft against his brother's, allowing Thor's tongue to slip inside. Still maintaining a hold on Thor's cock, Loki's hand begins a series of slow strokes as Thor struggles out of his jeans. Somehow their lips never part for a second.

Once he's naked, Thor brushes Loki's hand aside and moves over him. They maintain their kiss as they change positions on the bed. Loki's head hits the pillow, and Thor presses his body down fully on top of his brother's. Their cocks rest on their bellies between them, and Loki rotates his hips impatiently as Thor continues to explore his mouth with his tongue.

"Thor," Loki gasps the second he can break away. "Enough."

"There is no such thing," Thor says in reply. But he relents the attack and trails his mouth instead down Loki's jawline and neck.

A growl has built in Loki's throat by the time Thor shifts his weight onto his knees and scoots down so that he can kiss a path along Loki's collarbone. Thor licks at a nipple, then descends to taste the tight knot of Loki's belly button as well. Loki grips Thor's hair, practically begging him with desperate tugs by the time Thor's tongue finds the length of Loki's erection. He licks the underside from base to tip and lingers at the head, teasing it with lazy wet kisses until Loki pulls his hair hard and says, " _Fucking get on with it_."

Thor chuckles and bestows a final kiss to Loki's cock. Then he sits up on his knees and reaches for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand.

Once Loki realizes he's not in for a blowjob, he shakes his head and tries to catch his breath. "Oh, but I do hate you." He eyes the bottle and starts to roll over onto his stomach, but Thor's hand grips his shoulder to stop him.

"No. I want you facing me."

Loki hesitates, sensing the unwelcome return of Thor's desire for tenderness. "How very romantic," he says with a sneer. "Shall I conjure up a string quartet to set the mood while you sodomize me?"

"You're not going to bait me, Loki." Thor slicks up his fingers and seeks out the tight pucker of Loki's entrance. "Are you sore from earlier? We can do other things if you prefer."

Loki's teeth grit as Thor slips a finger inside of him. "What's wrong, hero? All out of rage and mindless lust? Come on—I can take it. No need to bother prepping me."

"I don't want to hurt you. I want this." Thor adds another slippery finger and dips his head down to kiss his brother while he works. He watches Loki's face between kisses, trying to determine exactly what part of this he's fighting so hard against. Thor doesn't think it has anything to do with the sex—but rather everything in between. Carefully, he pulls out his fingers and readies himself, slicking up his cock with the lubricant as well. "I will take it slow," he promises.

Loki hisses out a sigh. "I really wish you would just— _oh_." His eyes squeeze shut, his fingers worrying at the sheets as the head of Thor's cock penetrates him.

Thor's hands are still slippery with the lubricant, and he takes his brother's cock in hand, forming a tight fist. He thrusts his hips with deliberate slowness as he sinks steadily deeper into Loki. His little brother is rigid beneath him—not in pain but with rising pleasure. His face is turned to the side, his throat working as he swallows and gasps for every breath.

"Look at me," Thor demands. He hitches one of Loki's legs over his shoulders and lowers himself on top of him. His cock is now fully seated within his brother's tight heat. His hand stops pleasuring Loki until he finally obeys and meets his eyes.

"Please," Loki whispers. His fingers find Thor's arms and curl around the muscles.

Thor rests his weight on one elbow, and he touches Loki's face. "Look at me," he says again, gentler this time. "I want to see you."

Loki's attention falls away at once. Thor has the sudden desire to shake him, but he captures Loki's mouth in a kiss instead. All of it is perfect—from the friction of his cock in his brother's ass or the distracting little sounds Loki begins to make. Thor keeps his face nuzzled against his brother's, kissing him every so often but mostly desiring to watch and encourage the intimacy of the connection.

When Thor breathes his brother's name, Loki trembles beneath him, so overcome that he forgets to look away again. His eyes are impossibly vulnerable. "Thor, I can't do this," he whispers. "It's too much."

"Shhh." Thor's hips rock a bit slower, twisting a bit each time to change up the angle. "Yes, you can."

Loki grips Thor's arms with increased desperation. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Thor stops moving and stares down at his brother, searching the pleading defenselessness in his eyes. He almost gives in but remembers their conversation earlier. "Say the safe word, and I will stop," Thor promises. When nothing comes, he cautiously leans forward to kiss the corner of Loki's mouth.

"I mean it, Thor. I want you to stop."

None of these words count, but a small edge of discomfort still enters the back of Thor's mind. He would never deny his little brother the right to say no—but Loki isn't really saying that at all.

What had he said to Thor when they'd established the safe word?

_Sometimes the struggle is the best part._

Was this easier for him—to resist Thor's affection rather than laying himself vulnerable before it? Was it his pride getting in the way of something he actually desired deep down? It was if Loki was begging Thor to hold on to him tighter at the same time that he demanded to be let go. Thor had only imagined the safe word's use during the rougher sex—not for Loki's struggle with intimacy.

Thor's hips sink down, and he watches Loki's face for a reaction as he begins to thrust. Still no safe word, but Loki glares up at him, angry tears shining in his eyes as his mind still fights against him. "You're okay," Thor says, his hands coming to cradle the back of his brother's head. "I've got you."

"Get off of me _._ " Loki pushes at his brother's shoulders. " _Thor, stop_."

His brother has always been a liar, but even Thor has his limits.

His arms slide under Loki's back, and he sits up on his knees, bringing his brother with him until he's straddling his lap. Thor's cock slips out of Loki, and he doesn't try to reestablish that connection. Despite the unspoken safe word, Thor simply can't take pleasure in this anymore. This isn't about him.

"You are not trapped," Thor whispers as he nuzzles Loki's face. "You are in control here. Just relax." He takes Loki's cock in hand and works at it gently, easing his brother into it.

Loki clings to Thor's shoulders, their foreheads coming to rest together. "Please," he says—but doesn't elaborate further on what he wants.

"Stop thinking," Thor tells him. "Let go of whatever this is and listen to me. You don't have to do anything with what I say except hear me. You can process it later. I love you, brother. Whether you want it or not, that truth is yours to keep. I don't care what you've done or from whom you hide. You are safe here. This is your home. You do not need to fear this. You are safe."

Loki trembles, his lips working to form syllables, and Thor thinks for one unpleasant moment that he might actually say the safe word. But instead, Loki seems to break. He moves closer, wrapping his arms around Thor's neck in the embrace he wouldn't surrender to earlier.

Thor hugs him back with one arm and keeps stroking him with his other hand. "That's it," Thor whispers in his ear. "Just let go."

It takes him a long time, but eventually Loki fully relaxes against his brother, breathing heavily as if near sleep. Thor continues to whisper promises in his ear, and eventually coaxes Loki into a hard, powerful climax. Hot seed spills over Thor's hand and clings to both of their bellies. Loki grits his teeth and hugs Thor, nearly crushing the air from his lungs, before he relaxes again—completely spent.

Thor leans back onto the mattress and takes his brother with him. Their heads are nowhere near the pillows, but neither notice nor would they have cared if they did. Thor doesn't care about anything—not that they need to clean themselves up nor that his little brother's body is too warm and heavy to make breathing an easy task. Thor holds Loki tight and pretends not to notice when his hand moves to occasionally wipe moisture from his cheeks.

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – I'll probably hold off on posting another chapter until I finish my other story. This one is becoming more involved than I originally intended, and I want to give it my full attention when the time comes.

Thanks for stopping in to read! I would love to hear what you thought if you have a few moments.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N – I've really missed writing this story, and so here is a new chapter, even though _Bargaining_ is not yet complete. Hope you enjoy.

Warning – sexual content, dubious consent, and Incest with a Capital I.

* * *

Chapter Six

The next morning, Thor wakes alone.

The sun is up outside, glaring at him through the cracks in the blinds. The sheets are in disarray around him, and the blanket is kicked nearly onto the ground from the late night struggle to find a more comfortable position in bed. The corner of the pillow offers insufficient support beneath Thor's head, but he turns his face into it anyway, unwilling to move as he takes in a deep breath. The pillowcase smells like his brother.

Thor's fingers tighten on the sheets. When it registers with his groggy mind that the space beside him is cold and empty, he sits up in a rush and looks about the room with a growing sense of dismay. Loki's clothes are no longer strewn about the floor as they'd left them last night, and Thor's are neatly folded and placed in a stack on the dresser.

His throat tightens with uneasiness. Perhaps he pushed his little brother too far this time. Loki very well could have left for good.

After a quick wash in the bathroom, Thor dresses in a hurry, barely taking the time to pull on a t-shirt and zip up a pair of jeans. He catches the sound of Samantha's laughter somewhere in the house and fears she has missed the school bus. Only when Thor opens the bedroom door and steps out into the hall does he remember that it's Saturday, and there is no school in session.

Upon his arrival in the kitchen, Thor feels instant relief when he sees his brother standing there with his arms crossed. Loki gazes down at Samantha with weary disapproval, though it is obvious he's trying not to appear amused as she giggles behind her fingers. One of her hands is clenched into a fist with her thumb hidden inside.

Loki notices his brother's arrival and throws up his hands. "Thank the Norns. Thor, this little tyrant daughter of yours is a _thief_."

"What are you talking about?" Thor asks. He looks at Samantha, who again dissolves into laughter.

"She stole my nose," Loki says, pointing at his niece accusingly. "Look, I don't know how you like to raise your children, and I fully admit that I myself am not the finest of role models—but I am personally astounded at the level of sheer audacity coming from one so young. She is a supervillain in training. A danger to all who encounter her. Her powers of deception will no doubt soon cripple the universe. You must assemble the Avengers at once."

Though Thor has woken up rather unpleasantly, he can't help but relax and smile as he looks between his brother and daughter. Samantha holds her fist to her chest as if to say she'll never give up Loki's nose without a fight. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she stares up at her uncle, and it is obvious she absolutely adores him. Thor hasn't seen her so unburdened and _childlike_ since before Jane fell ill, nor has he seen Loki so gentle and lighthearted since his fall from Asgard—and both are very good reasons for Thor to allow himself to indulge in a smile as well.

Loki leans down, resting his palms on his thighs as he comes eye level with his niece. "Exactly how do you expect me to make you a proper breakfast without my sense of smell? I could very well slip a garlic clove into your cereal bowl and not detect the problem at all. Unhand my nose, little witch."

Samantha pretends like she means to put his imaginary nose back on his face but then grabs at his ears instead. With a grin, she bounces in place and announces, "I've got your ears now."

"What?" Loki shifts his weight and cups a hand to one side of his head. "Apologies, but I must ask you to speak up. I can't seem to hear you."

Samantha collapses against him, giggling so hard that she nearly falls to the floor. Loki's hand moves behind her back to keep her upright, but once he steadies her, he lets her go. Samantha straightens and swipes at Loki's mouth. "Now you can't talk!" she laughs.

Loki falls perfectly silent, his lips pressed into a careful line. His eyes smile at her as he shakes his head slowly back and forth.

"Well, that is a miracle indeed," Thor says, ruffling his daughter's hair. "You must teach me that trick, for I have been in need of it for centuries. Well done."

As Loki silently barters with Samantha for the return of his body parts using only his hands and eyebrows to communicate, Thor moves into the kitchen to start on breakfast. He is shocked that his mood could be so positive in light of all that has happened.

The last few days have been impossibly confusing and even disturbing at times. Thor has existed only in the present moment—moving from violence to lust to anger to gratefulness in the time it takes to blink. He has wondered more than once if Jane could somehow know what he's done and how he's betrayed her memory. But as he looks at what little remains of his family, Thor wonders if perhaps Jane wouldn't mind this—that she would want her husband and daughter happy and not numb with despair.

It's not that simple, of course, but it makes it a little easier to breathe.

* * *

They spend the morning outside with the winter sun warm upon their shoulders. Thor handles yard work that he has neglected for far too long, raking in a small pile of leaves beneath the almond tree that Jane had planted in their backyard, claiming it grew well in the desert. Loki sits on the roots with Samantha and talks to her about magic.

Though Thor feels slightly shut out of their conversation, he doesn't interfere or try to take part. His daughter is distant with him for reasons he doesn't understand, but he's happy that at least she's opening up to someone. And Loki—well, there are plenty of reasons why his little brother hasn't looked him in the eye once since the prior night. Thor thinks it best to give them both a bit of space, though he feels more than a little lonely on the edge of their discussion.

He isn't used to not being at the center of his daughter's world. Or Loki's, for that matter.

Thor isn't certain if he has been cast out of the circle or if they have simply moved on and left him standing still.

Loki holds up a withered, dried-out leaf in front of Samantha's face, and she watches with amazement as tendrils of color trickle back through the stem. A rainbow of fall hues pass through the leaf in reverse order—red, orange, yellow, and finally green. She is absolutely delighted by the display and makes her uncle show her the trick again and again until there is a pile of perfect leaves between them, all of them the deep green of summer.

Still unsatisfied, Samantha goes on a search for more dead leaves for Loki to transform. Thor waits patiently as she trudges through his pile of raked leaves to grab a handful, and he says nothing to scold or dissuade her. A plan is formulating behind her clear blue eyes, and she looks more than a little like Frigga as she beams up at Loki and shoves the dried leaves into his hands. "Teach me how to bring things back to life," she says. "I want to try."

Loki's lips part, but he hesitates before offering a reply. Thor also stops what he's doing when he hears his daughter's demand. He wonders if she thinks it might be possible to bring her mother back to life if she learns Loki's trick, and judging from the look on his brother's face, Loki is thinking the same. Though he has demonstrated several times that he is unwilling to lie to Samantha the way he was lied to in his childhood, it is obvious Loki is just as reluctant to say anything that will bring down her mood in the slightest. If Thor has any reservations about trusting Loki with Samantha, they seem to disappear a bit more each time he sees them together.

"Well, I didn't bring anything back to life exactly," Loki says. "It's an illusion. I tricked your eyes into thinking the leaves changed color. Would you like me to teach you that? It will take quite a bit of time to master, but I think you're capable of it in the future."

Samantha squints at his face, looking as if she's trying to fit his answer in with her understanding of what happened. Then she blinks down at the leaf in her hand and says, "You mean, it's still dead?"

Loki looks at Thor, silently asking for help.

Thor sets his rake against the tree and kneels down beside her, but Samantha pulls away before he can touch her.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, her voice suddenly far too grown up for a six-year-old. "I just didn't understand. I'm going inside." Her cheeks are stained red as she drops the leaf and retreats into the house, letting the door slam behind her.

With a sigh, Loki stands and brushes dirt off of his hands. "Sorry," he says. "I didn't anticipate that, though I probably should have." He looks around the yard but is careful not to let his eyes rest on his older brother. The awkwardness from the prior evening's events still lingers between them. It is easier to ignore with Samantha present.

"It's all right," Thor replies. "She has always asked difficult questions. She gets it from her mother, I suppose. I've talked to her about death before, and that was about the same time she stopped talking to me at all. Take warning from that."

Loki plucks a dried leaf off of his sleeve and lets it fall away into the wind. "Well, therein lies your problem. When has talking ever done any good? People lie, Thor. Words hold no meaning until actions make them true."

Thor wonders if this has anything to do with the string of promises he had whispered into his brother's ear the night before. "Not everyone lies, Loki."

But Thor is only speaking to his brother's back, for Loki has turned to walk away. "I will go make amends with your daughter," he calls over his shoulder. "Likely in the form of something sweet and unhealthy. I would not mind overly much if you were to join us, though we both know you won't."

And he's right.

* * *

Loki distracts Samantha with tasks for much of the day, forcing her to help him tidy the house and fold her freshly washed school clothes. Afterward, he asks her to clean up the Legos from the floor of her bedroom but quickly becomes distracted with them instead.

Hours later, Thor comes to check on them in her bedroom and discovers that every single toy Samantha owns has been brought out. Stuffed animals line the bed as if serving as an audience, and on the floor, Loki and Samantha have constructed a city out of her bin of Legos. There are dinosaurs, aliens, zoo animals, and superheroes carefully arranged in the streets and on top of buildings. Loki has used a spell to send a Lego spaceship hovering in the air above the city.

"We need more power," Samantha shouts.

"Right," Loki says with a decisive nod. He hands over the jewel-encrusted fairy wand in his lap. "Take my scepter. But I warn you, dearest niece. It is a weapon most powerful, gifted to me by a warlord of old. I beg of thee to take heed."

Samantha snatches the wand away from him and waves it at the hovering spaceship. When she notices her father watching them, her arms lower with uncertainty.

Thor leans against the doorjamb and says, "Dinner is ready."

"Just a moment," Loki says as he struggles to force a high-heeled boot onto a Barbie doll. "We are reenacting the battle of New York with a much improved ending. I'm just getting Tony Stark ready for his grand finale."

Samantha takes the Barbie away from him, gripping it by its long, brunette hair. "Oh, no, Iron Man fell out of the universe!" she says. Then she throws the doll past Thor and out into the hallway, where it connects violently with the wall.

Loki presses a hand to his heart. "I think this might be the proudest moment of my life. _Well done,_ niece."

"Kitchen, please," Thor says to his daughter. "Go eat your dinner. You may play more after you're finished." As he steps aside to let Samantha scamper past him out of the doorway, Thor shakes his head at his brother. "You would make a questionable parent," he says, though he's struggling not to smile.

Loki doesn't appear sorry in the least. "Possibly. But I am the _best_ uncle. Oh, lighten up." He points at the mangled Barbie in the hallway. "Tell me that wasn't hilarious."

"I have not seen her that happy in some time," Thor admits. "She will not respond to my attempts to comfort her. I'm glad she's at least opening up to you."

Loki shrugs as if to say it was nothing. "It's not difficult to distract a child's attention away from sadness. You're so serious these days. You've forgotten how to play."

Thor lifts his eyebrows at the pink feather boa draped around his brother's shoulders. "And you've forgotten how to be serious."

"Uh, no. No, I have not," Loki says with a bitter chuckle. He gets to his feet and carefully sidesteps the Legos. "I've just had a stomach full of it."

Any semblance of a smile on Thor's face melts away. He blocks his brother's attempt to leave the room, and the question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "Loki, where have you been all these years?"

Loki's chin lifts in sudden defiance. He pulls the boa off of his shoulders and turns away to place it on the bed. His tone is quiet as he says, "I thought we agreed not to talk about such things. Leave it alone, Thor."

"You know I can't."

Loki glances around uncomfortably, again looking anywhere but at his brother. "You once told me you would kill me if I betrayed you again."

"And you haven't betrayed me since," Thor says. "You were true to your word and helped me protect Jane. And then you apologized and finally proved to me that my brother was somewhere inside of you, buried beneath all the hatred and anger. Have you been wondering why I didn't strike out at you when you first appeared to me here?"

Loki swallows. "You might say that, yes."

Thor wonders if Loki is trying to hint to him that he has betrayed him some other way. "I have lost too many loved ones," Thor says. "I will not second-guess the return of one of them. And I beg you, Loki, please do not give me reason to regret that. You have every opportunity here to destroy me fully. I am choosing to trust my brother. Where have you been, Loki? I need to know."

When Loki finally meets his eyes, Thor sees the shadow of fear deep inside of them. Immediately, he knows that the answer will not be good. "I have been somewhere where I had to be far too serious," Loki says quietly. "I don't want to talk about it, Thor, and I don't want to think about it either. I have stayed here only because you asked me to. Will you please grant me peace in return?"

Thor presses his lips together into a careful line. It's not the response he was hoping for, but it is an answer of sorts. He now knows his brother has been somewhere uncomfortable. Someplace so bad that he doesn't even want to remember it. Loki is a capable liar, but the disturbingly fragile look on his face is not manufactured. And so Thor says nothing as Loki pushes past him into the hallway beyond because he doesn't want to see that look on his little brother's face ever again.

* * *

Hours later, after dinner is eaten and everything cleaned and put away, Thor sits outside by himself on the dark patio. The night air is chilly, though not as much as the one before. Winter seems to be stretching toward spring, though the branches of the almond tree are still barren and cold. Thor feels lonely as he sits there and listens to the wind, but he makes no move to go inside to join his family. His mind is fraught with worry—for both Samantha and Loki. Neither one of them will tell Thor how to fix things, and he doesn't know what to do with himself in turn. He has always been the one in charge of mending.

The backdoor opens, and the sound of boots on the porch tells Thor who it is. "She's asleep," Loki says as he closes the door. "How long have you been out here?"

Thor shrugs and folds his hands together in front of him.

Loki walks over to where Thor sits on the porch stairs and chuckles lightly as he observes his brother's posture. "This again," Loki says with no small amount of scorn. "I thought you had moved past this depressing stage."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Thor replies.

Loki smirks, amused by his brother's pouting. He leans against the porch railing and says, "Shall I call upon my powers to incite your anger again? How I do enjoy being pounded into the ground against my will."

Thor's lips part, and he turns his head to glare at his brother.

Loki lifts his eyebrows and says, "That was a joke, Thor."

"And yet I find no humor in it," Thor says. "I think I proved last night that I will always stop."

"That you did," Loki admits. He pushes away from the railing and draws close. After he kneels in front of Thor, his fingertips find his brother's knees. They spread and slide upward with deliberate slowness until his palms rest flat on Thor's thighs. Loki's eyes are completely black in the darkness. His skin is pale, otherworldly. "You asked me earlier to talk to you," he says, "and so here is a deep, dark secret. I think you have misinterpreted my need to fight you as me wanting you to stop. Allow me to be perfectly clear. When I fight back, it's only so that you will give it to me harder."

Loki's palms move upward again, dragging against the rough fabric of Thor's jeans to where it bunches at the top of his legs. With a sharp intake of air, Thor's posture straightens. His brother's hand presses up against his cock—not touching it but so close that Thor's pulse begins to speed. Loki adjusts his position, moving his hips more snugly in between Thor's thighs. Their lips come within a whisper of each other, and Thor feels overcome by the sudden closeness. His mind had not been in such places only moments before, but he is hopelessly addicted to this now.

Thor's eyes close as he leans in for a kiss, but Loki pulls just far enough away to evade him. His teeth glint white in the darkness.

"I like it when you're rough with me," Loki says, each word a taunt as he presses his nails into Thor's thighs. "I prefer it, in fact, to your gentler advances. I enjoy inciting your anger, and not so that I can get the upper hand on you. I like being held down afterwards and forced to take my punishment. I like it when you strike me with your belt and then tie me up with it. I like saying no and only getting fucked harder in reply."

He puts emphasis on the curse word to make it sound all the more perverse. His thumb strokes along the length of Thor's erection, drawing out a hiss of frustration that makes Loki's smile widen. He leans forward to kiss the corner of Thor's mouth and then whispers against the wet place he left there.

"It is a release and rubs at something inside of me in a very needed way," Loki says against his brother's skin. "I don't like admitting all of this, of course, because I still see myself as dominant. I am not a weakling, Thor, nor will I ever fully submit to you. But it seems you need reassurance that this is consensual. Rest assured that I am selfish by nature and would not be doing this if I didn't find pleasure in it. Stop taking it all so seriously. Let me show you how to play." He nips at his brother's bottom lip and smiles. "Shall I remind you why I'm the villain, brother? I do feel I am in need of punishment."

Loki's fingers again dig into Thor's thighs, muscles tense as if he's about to attack. Thor has stayed relatively still up until this point, but he can't ignore the threat any longer. His hands find Loki's upper arms and grip them tight. Their lips brush together. Not yet a kiss. Still only flirtation. Loki's eyes dance with playful malice as his hands slide under his brother's shirt and find the hot, muscled skin of his stomach underneath. Thor relaxes his hold and lets one hand ease upward until his fingers twist in Loki's hair. He pulls and forces his brother's head to stay still. Their tongues touch before their lips do.

Loki moans as they kiss, and the pleading sound of it does things to Thor's head. He wants this. He wants it so badly, he could take his little brother right there on the porch. Thor pulls at Loki's hair—slowly but with unrelenting firmness—until their lips part as his brother's head is bent backwards. The pale length of his throat is exposed to Thor's greedy eyes. "You really want me to hurt you?" he asks as he goes in to taste.

Loki swallows, and his throat works against the wet heat of Thor's tongue. "Only if you promise to ignore my screams to stop. Mmm. Pull harder."

"Well, I would ignore you," Thor points out. "Only it doesn't sound like you're saying no."

"Then work more diligently at pleasing me so that I don't have to ask."

Thor twists his fingers until Loki lets out a cry of distress. "Too hard," Loki gasps, his belly heaving with every breath. Thor only pulls harder, and Loki laughs in breathless reply. "Now you're getting the hang of it. Shall we make a dash for the bedroom? I'm shielding us with a glamour, but it might fail if I lose focus."

"We can't do this inside," Thor says, loosening his hold and letting his hand slip down the back of his brother's neck. "This is not going to be quiet."

Loki gets to his feet and backs away from the porch, narrow hips swaying, every step meant to torment and tease. "Now don't go making promises unless you intend to keep them."

* * *

They end up in the garage, half of which is occupied by the car. The empty space is where Thor keeps his tools and workbench, and it smells of wood shavings and cold iron. Moonlight pools onto the floor from a window high above, and a long chain dangles from the rafters, which once held a punching bag that did not last long. Jane had made him move it when Thor's blows threatened to pull down the entire structure.

Loki swallows when he sees the chain. His demeanor is not nearly as confident as Thor's shadow falls over him.

"Take off your shirt," Thor says. The command is quietly spoken, though offering little room for refusal.

Loki's fingers go to his top button, and he turns toward Thor while he unfastens it. His gaze drops to Thor's hands, which hold a bit of thin rope, and the level of Loki's chin immediately lowers. He draws in deep breaths and blinks rapidly as if he's having second thoughts—and every bit of it is an act.

"Hands," Thor says.

After Loki sets aside his shirt on the workbench, he holds out his hands in front of him. "What are you going to do?" he asks.

Thor binds Loki's wrists together with the rope. Though he doesn't have the same set of skills as his brother, every Aesir warrior knows how to tie a knot and infuse it with magic so that it will not come free. Loki's arm and shoulder muscles tense as he pulls against the rope and finds he can't break it. Thor lifts his brother's arms over his head and ties the rope to the chain as high as he can reach.

Loki gasps as he's left dangling there, his feet touching the ground but barely so. The muscles in his arms strain against their bonds, and his cheeks suck in with a mixture of concentration and discomfort. Thor runs his palms down Loki's body, starting with the bound hands, then moving along the trembling arms. His rib bones are prominent in this position, and Thor slips his fingers in the smooth places between them. When he reaches Loki's waist, he undoes the belt and rips it from the loops. He doesn't pause to remind Loki of the safe-word. His brother's eyes burn with apprehension—but also with lust. There is no need of such things.

Thor makes quick work of his brother's remaining clothes, stripping him completely naked. Afterward, he walks around Loki two times, still fully clothed himself. He makes certain that Loki knows it and feels Thor's attention on every curve and hard place on his exposed body.

"I will return," Thor says, tapping Loki's ass lightly with the folded leather belt in his hand. "Don't go anywhere."

* * *

From the house, Thor retrieves exactly two things and brings them back to the garage. He sets down a bottle of lubricant at Loki's feet and says, "Can you seal the door from here? I don't want any chance of her walking in."

"Already done," Loki says. His fingers strive to loosen the knot at his wrists, but it is a hopeless effort. "Brother, please. Why do you have that?"

Thor's fingers tighten around Mjolnir, which Loki eyes suspiciously. "I thought you wanted me to hurt you."

Loki licks his lips and says, "That's not exactly what I had in mind."

Thor carries his weapon to where the end of the chain drags on the floor beside Loki's feet. He sets the hammer down, pinning the chain to the concrete. At his command, Mjolnir comes to life and crackles with the promise of lightning. The electricity travels up the length of the metal chain and finds its target. Loki is already shouting threats at Thor by the time it hits him. He seizes up when he feels it—but not worryingly so. If there is one thing Thor knows how to control, it is this. He has often put his hands on his weapon and encouraged it to bite back. A little bit of the current felt good. Painful—but exciting and stimulating at the same time.

Loki shivers in its wake, and Thor draws close to him, sliding his palms curiously down his brother's chest, letting his thumbs encourage the nipples into stiff points. "How do you like that?" Thor asks.

"I _hate_ you," Loki spits in reply.

But Thor only chuckles and bends his head to take one of his brother's nipples into his mouth. He waits until Loki's tension begins to melt into pleasure before he hits him with the lightning again. Loki cries out and tries to pull away, but Thor's hands move to his waist and keep him still. He teases the nipple first with his tongue but then uses his teeth. Electricity buzzes between them.

"Stop, stop," Loki begs. "It hurts, Thor, _please_ _please stop_."

No safe-word. Thor presses forward, but he touches the chain so that he can feel exactly how much current his brother is receiving. Thor knows he can handle it, and that Loki is perfectly safe. And very, very good at pretending he isn't.

He is glad Loki was honest with him during their discussion about consent earlier. Thor feels free to enjoy this.

As Loki pleads, he tries not to let any part of his skin touch the metal, but it's no use. Thor has tied the rope to the chain in too purposeful a way. He drops to his knees in front of Loki and lets his open mouth drag down his stomach and abdomen. His hands move from Loki's hips around to grip his ass instead. The muscles clench and strain beneath his fingers as Loki fights against his bonds. His cock won't stay still, and Thor laughs a little as he has to chase it with his mouth, finally pinning it to his brother's abdomen with his lips before licking a slow path upward to the head. Electricity stings at the wet trail he leaves and crackles in Thor's mouth.

"Don't you _dare_ ," Loki all but shouts.

When Thor takes in his brother's cock, Loki makes a kind of desperate, sobbing sound. Though he might like the oral pleasure, there is a bite of electricity to it. Thor pulls him closer, encouraging him to sink deeper down into his throat, and soon Loki is spitting curses up at the ceiling. Though his cock is fully aroused, Loki's breaths start to come a little too fast as if he's panicking. Thor decides to ease up. He calls off Mjolnir's lightning but continues to suck his brother off. His fingers feel around on the floor for the bottle of lubricant.

Loki grits his teeth and thrust his hips forward sharply as if in retaliation. Thor slaps Loki's ass, drawing out a pained cry of surprise. But when Loki recovers, he only laughs and rocks his hips forward again. Thor takes it and relaxes the muscles in his throat while his brother begins fucking his mouth. Thor closes his lips around Loki's cock and sucks him off hard—no teasing, no licking. Just strong, deep pulls meant to level his brother's control completely. Loki's thrusts become less focused after that, but it isn't until Thor's fingers slip between the cheeks of his ass that Loki takes to begging again.

Thor has slicked his fingers up with the lubricant. He starts with two and soon adds a third, pressuring his brother to open up to him quickly.

"Thor," Loki cries. " _Ah_. Please, it's too much."

He pulls against his bonds but soon seems to give up. He lets himself hang limply and trembles while he focuses in on this added sensation. As Thor continues to work his mouth over Loki's cock, his fingers move faster and rub purposefully against the sweet spot inside, knowing he's found it when a fresh wave of expletives spill out of his little brother's lips.

It goes on like that for a while, with Thor in obvious control until Loki gradually comes to reclaim it. His feet rest more solidly on the ground, and his hips begin to move. Soon he's fucking himself back against Thor's fingers and rutting forward into his mouth. Thor slaps his ass again as if to spur him on.

"Yes," Loki gasps. "Oh, fuck. Thor, do it again. The lightning."

At Thor's bidding, Mjolnir crackles to life, and Loki writhes and strains as a powerful orgasm takes him. Thor sucks and swallows down everything his brother offers.

* * *

When he releases Loki's hands, Thor has to catch his brother before he falls to the ground. Loki's body is limp and sated, but he regains his composure after a moment. He smiles almost drunkenly as Thor unties the rope from his wrists. There are red stripes across them.

" _Ooh_ ," Loki says, his tongue flicking out. "You've left marks. Anywhere else you care to roam?"

Thor pushes him toward the car, and Loki quickly takes the hint. With a heated look of lust, he bends over the hood. Thor unbuckles his belt, his eyes on the marks he's already left on his brother's ass. It's not quite the right color yet. Wanting to touch the skin himself, Thor casts the belt aside and slaps his brother with his palm instead, gripping his ass cheek afterward.

Loki stops breathing for a moment. But then leans back into his brother's hand and says, "Again. You know you want to."

And so Thor lays into him with a torrent of unforgiving blows. They number in the dozens and his hand is throbbing by the time he's finally willing to listen to Loki's desperate pleas to stop.

His little brother is left weak and trembling beneath him—and so, so beautiful. Loki pants, his breaths fogging up the metal of the car's hood. Thor stares down at the inflamed, bruised cheeks as he unbuttons his jeans. He's so hard, he can barely get the zipper down.

As he strokes himself, Thor leans down to graze his lips against the hot flesh, loving the way he can feel the heat radiating upward before he even touches the skin. "Now, this is what I like," he says. "I like seeing you punished this way—but only by my hand. If anyone else ever touches you like this, they will be the one who is punished. You are mine. I don't want you to fight this, brother. I want you to give in and let me take you."

Loki lets out a little groan as Thor guides him onto his back. The metal beneath him is ice cold, and Loki hisses when his well-punished skin meets with it. After a moment, he decides he likes it. His shoulders sag as he lets out a slow breath of relief.

Thor pulls him to the edge of the hood and moves between his thighs. His cock presses against Loki's entrance, and there is a wonderfully drawn out moment of pressure. Loki leans back, adjusts the angle of his tailbone, and sighs happily as the head of Thor's cock finally penetrates him.

"Brother," Loki whispers, his fingers tightening around Thor's forearms. His eyes open, and he smiles up at Thor with wicked intent.

It is Thor's turn to moan then. His head feels hazy with pleasure. He wants Loki to say that word again. Thor rocks into him slowly at first, though there is little need to ease Loki into it. He is completely relaxed and compliant as Thor sinks slowly deeper. His thighs begin to tremble. "Say that again," he commands.

Loki's eyes narrow slightly but then light up when he remembers the last thing he said. "Mmm, but you are bad. How long have you wanted this, _brother_? Did you look at me when we were younger, wrestling in the fields or bathing in the river, and think about taking me this way?"

Thor grabs his brother's hips, holding them steady as he quickens his pace. He is buried to the hilt now in Loki's tight, burning heat.

Loki laughs at the obviousness of his brother's reaction. "I know I did. I would touch myself at night, remembering how you looked and felt. Once I even did pleasure myself while you were sleeping next to me. Isn't that the absolute wickedest thing you've ever heard? My own _brother_."

Thor has no idea if any of this is true, but he doesn't want Loki to stop weaving this spell for him with his words. His fingers dig into Loki's hips hard enough to leave bruises. The car begins to rock beneath them. "Why didn't you act on it?" Thor asks, each word difficult to get out. He lifts a hand to rub his thumb across his brother's mouth, delighting in the teasing curve of it.

"Oh, I wanted to," Loki says between nips at Thor's thumb. "But I only dared imagine it. I thought about pulling the sheets back and staring at your body. Or going down on you before you were awake enough to realize what was happening. I would have sucked you off only long enough to get you hard, and then I would have straddled you and taken you in deep. Just like you are now. Tell me, Thor. Do you like fucking your little brother?"

Thor's hand moves to close around Loki's neck. He squeezes only tight enough to let him know it's there.

Loki appears absolutely delighted that he's getting a rise out of his brother. He takes hold of his own cock, which is aroused again, and he starts to stroke. "You _do_. Would that we have initiated this sooner. So many places we could have sullied at home in Asgard. The stables. The training grounds. The throne room. Would you like to hear what I've imagined we would do there?"

Thor's breaths are ragged. He is close, and the sound of Loki's voice only pushes him nearer to the edge. He grasps his brother behind the neck and hauls him upward to meet his lips.

Loki smiles against Thor's mouth and gasps out words between kisses. "Well, I am King in this particular daydream, of course. _Ah_. Right there." He writhes beneath Thor as he finds a particularly good place to rub against. "And you are in chains, kneeling before me. Oh, fuck—yes, make me feel it tomorrow." Loki works his cock faster between them. "Everyone is there in the throne room, watching you service me. And their faces, Thor. Oh, they are _horrified_. And neither one of us care."

Thor's fingers reposition themselves and squeeze, purposefully choking his brother, though he really doesn't want Loki to stop talking. Thor just wants to hear him struggle to get out the words.

"I show my willing slave the sweetest of mercies," Loki finishes with a breathless smile. His free hand goes to Thor's cheek, which he caresses in covetous delight. "All over your grateful, adoring face."

They are the last words Loki can get out before Thor loses any semblance of control. He pounds his little brother beyond the ability to form words, choking him and straining down to kiss the gasping mouth. Thor grinds his orgasm into Loki, who practically sobs with relief as he spills his own climax onto his stomach.

* * *

Afterward, Thor is unwilling to move. He pulls out of his brother but stays positioned on top of him. He feels wrung out. Boneless. Like he could sleep for a thousand years. He presses his mouth against his brother's temple and inhales. "I think we dented my car," he mutters.

Loki's fingertips trail down Thor's spine with surprising tenderness. His shoulders shake with silent laughter. "That's more like it," he says. "Finally, after all your moping about, you fuck me properly at last."

Thor sighs wearily and rises up until his weight rests on his forearms. "Brother," he says, leaning down to press a kiss between Loki's eyebrows. "Do you ever shut up?"

Loki only grips his stomach and laughs harder in reply.

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – I'm . . . pretty darn sure that's the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Hope you enjoyed. I'd love to know what you thought if you have a moment.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – I wrote an _itty bitty_ 100 word drabble about how Sam and Loki met for the first time. It's on my [tumblr](http://pro-antagonist.tumblr.com/post/83091548283/) if you'd like to read it. (Again, just 100 words, so don't expect much.)

* * *

Chapter Seven

The room is dark and comfortable, the hour late—perhaps close to dawn. Thor has lost track of time. Fatigue aches deep in his belly, but this moment is too perfect and _necessary_ to forfeit for something as unimportant as sleep.

Laying side by side in the bed, the brothers lick kisses into each other's mouths, neither of them insisting on a dominant or submissive role. It started as a simple goodnight gesture but sobered and quieted into something else. Tongues hot and wet, fingertips gently massaging—unhurried, lingering kisses one could sink down into like a pillow. It's as if they've missed too many goodnights and are focused on catching up.

They have been at it for so long now that their lips are red as berries and will no doubt tingle well into tomorrow. Loki's scent fills Thor's lungs and mind—the taste of him, sinful. With each passing second, Thor's conscience tries to break through the heady screen of pleasure and remind him that this is so _very, very wrong._ But a part of him needs this desperately—a loved one, safe and at peace in his arms. Quiet intimacy and surrender. No fighting. No unending battle of wills.

No death.

Loki sucks on his brother's already swollen bottom lip and sighs a little as he releases it. He goes in for it again a second later, eager to reestablish that connection as though he's starving for it.

Thor hugs Loki a little closer and kisses all around his lips. He wonders why Loki hasn't pushed him away yet, since he's repeatedly rejected Thor's prior attempts at gentleness and intimacy. Perhaps Loki is simply too exhausted to put up a fuss, or perhaps he's given in because he needs this just as much as Thor does, though for seemingly different reasons.

After the exchange of countless kisses and sighs, Loki's lips stop working against Thor's and give way to a yawn instead. Loki's eyelashes rest black against the pale backdrop of his cheek. He is beautiful when at rest—even beautiful when at war—but Thor much prefers to see his brother like this.

Thor presses a few final kisses to the sleepy little mouth and then nuzzles in close, knowing it's finally time to stop and rest. "I love you," he whispers.

With a tired chuckle, Loki says, "You are pathetic."

It's an obvious attempt to brush aside the moment of intimacy and prove that Loki is untouched by it still—but Thor only smooths back his brother's dark hair, kisses his forehead, and says, "You're not."

The foundation of love behind those words is deep and fiercely, achingly sweet. Loki shivers and tucks his head under Thor's chin like it's a safe place to hide. Thor bundles him up in his arms, a little too tight to be comfortable for either of them but far too necessary to relinquish any bit of that strength.

Tangled up in each other's minds and bodies, they sleep.

* * *

Some time later, after a few hours of fitful slumbering, Thor stirs when the heater kicks on. The rush of air rattles the door and seeps through the cracks, the sound like a quiet wail rising in the distance. Thor is already feeling hot beneath the comforter, and so he kicks it off, too sleepy to get out of bed to readjust the thermostat.

When he rolls over onto his side, he encounters the warm, bare flesh of his brother's thigh. Thor drops a sleepy kiss there, the leg hair tickling his nose and mouth. He thinks Loki must be sitting up in bed, though it feels too early to rise yet.

"Awake already?" Thor asks, the words slurred with exhaustion. "Lie back down with me. The sun is barely up."

No response.

The silence takes a few moments to register in Thor's sleep-addled brain, but eventually he forces one eye open. He slides his palm up Loki's thigh and says, "Did you fall asleep sitting up?"

No grumpy, half-asleep retort. No fingers threading through Thor's tangled hair. Silence is his only reply. Thor rolls onto his back so that he can better see his little brother's face.

He bolts upright a moment later.

"Loki." Thor kneels beside his brother on the bed and grips both of his arms near the shoulder, trying to make sense of the way Loki stares blankly at the wall, eyes so bewilderingly green and calm. With a gentle shake, Thor says, "Brother. Look at me."

Loki's arms are warm and pliant beneath Thor's hands. He appears completely unharmed save for the vacant expression on his face, but never in his life has Loki ever looked like that. There is always something going on behind those cunning eyes. Wheels spinning. Plans falling into perfect order. A knowing smirk or half-hearted attempt at disguising disdain. It's almost as if Loki is in a trance, and Thor cannot remember a time when something frightened him this much.

Thor shakes him again, more insistent this time. " _Loki_. Wake up."

With a start, Loki blinks several times and focuses on Thor's face. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Thor echoes, nearly frantic with worry. Seeing his brother alert and speaking does not do much to dispel his concern. "You were unresponsive."

One of Loki's eyebrows draws upward. "It's called sleeping."

"You were not asleep," Thor says. His adrenaline is higher than it should be, as if someone had woken him up in the middle of an attack and told him his brother was in danger. "You were staring at the wall without blinking."

Loki's expression turns wary in the face of his brother's rising anger. "I am fine, Thor. Blinking and everything. All is well."

But even though Loki is obviously behaving like himself again, Thor can't let it go. He has no idea why he's _this_ upset, but his mind is absolutely consumed with it. He can't shake the feeling that there is an unknown threat out there somewhere and that he'll one day have to mourn his little brother a third time if he doesn't find it.

" _No_ ," Thor snaps. "You are not fine. Do you think I don't know something is wrong with you? Do you think I don't see it in your face and in the way you hold yourself? I want you to tell me where you've been. I am sick to death of wondering and worrying what kind of monster has had its claws in you."

For some reason, Thor's response provokes a bitter laugh from Loki. "Calm yourself. You are being utterly ridiculous. And even if you weren't, my affairs are none of your concern."

"You are my _little brother_ ," Thor says, shaking Loki a bit with the final two words. "If someone has hurt you or means to do so again, then it is damn well my concern."

Loki's eyes waver, a strange mixture of hope and aversion shining in their depths. He swallows once before speaking. "Thor, please. It is not what you think."

"Then correct my misunderstanding."

"Let go of me."

"Who had you? From whom do you hide?"

Though Loki has never once mentioned another person, Thor simply _knows_.

Their voices are growing progressively louder, and Loki glances at the door as if worried the spell he put on it last night might not muffle the sound. "If we get into this, you are going to start something we can't come back from. Why won't you just let it go?"

"Because you are my brother," Thor bites out. "And because I love you. How many times do I have to say those things?"

With a twist and a shove, Loki manages to free himself from the trap of Thor's grip. He gets off the bed—naked, face flushed with anger and fatigue. When he whips back around to face Thor, his hands are clenched into fists. Something inside of him has finally snapped. " _Please_. You never even came to visit me in the Asgardian dungeons until you needed something. And therein lies the only reason you're tolerating my presence here now—because I'm _bending over_ and giving you something you need."

Thor rears back as if Loki physically struck him. Though he knows his brother is attempting to deflect the true purpose of this argument, Thor cannot leave that accusation out in the open without responding to it. "That is a lie. I knew you were safe in the dungeons. I was angry, Loki. Confused and hurt. You tried to ki—"

He trails off and sags, his heart suddenly aching so badly that he wants to double over.

Loki is right. They should not talk about this.

There is so much poison buried beneath the smoothed-over surface of their relationship. To unearth even a little of it is to drown.

Loki seems to hover in place, part of him wanting to bolt yet still held there by the gravitational pull of his brother. "I know what I did, Thor. And I know you won't believe me, but I have been paying for it."

Thor refocuses on him, the sadness in his eyes asking the question he doesn't have the heart to vocalize: _How?_ He wonders if he really wants to know the answer.

"When I first saw you here," Loki says, "I was surprised you still thought I was dead."

He's trying to tell Thor something—little clues dropped in his path like birdseed. Seemingly innocuous words, but Thor knows his brother better than that. Loki has never been able to keep a secret without at least hinting at the answer.

Thor feels as if his entire being is trembling. He's not used to dealing with so many emotions at once, and his mind and body are tense with fatigue. "What is that supposed to mean? You died in my arms. _I felt you die_."

Loki winces at the volume of Thor's response. "I thought I _was dying_. Maybe I even did. I don't know, Thor, but everything I said to you, I meant. Though I will admit, even had I not fallen, I would not have let you throw me back in that cage. I was rotting in there. I would much rather you kill me first. You were even kind enough to inform me of exactly how to elicit that response from you."

A sick feeling burrows into Thor's gut as he remembers their discussion back in Asgard so many years ago. Loki had given him the strangest smile when Thor had threatened to kill him if he betrayed him. That smile meant the birth of a plan.

"You had every comfort in that cell," Thor says. "Wine. Books. No death sentence, which is unheard of. And our mother—"

"Was killed," Loki says, cutting him off. "And according to _your father_ , she was the only thing keeping me alive. Not even my brother interceded for me. She was all I had left, Thor, and it's my fault that she. . . ." Loki trails off and looks away, appearing as though he feels a bit ill himself. "I can't go back there," he whispers. "I won't."

"You act as though I am asking you to."

Loki hugs himself around the middle as he laughs. "Strange, but I recall you being the person who put me there to begin with. You always have enjoyed putting me in my place, haven't you, _brother_?"

Something in Loki's tone jabs into Thor's side like a knife. It hurts to hear, reminding him of things he does not want to think about. It's not the first time they've argued about this very same thing, and Loki knows quite well that he put himself in that cell. He just wants to argue about anything except what Thor wants to know the most. This is only a distraction, and Thor is not going to play along.

"I found no enjoyment in that," Thor says, his voice gentler now. Pleading. His anger is fading, replaced only with regret that he has let it fester for so long. "We both carry hurts in our hearts, some of them very grave indeed, but I can forgive you even now. Sometimes I think you rage against me so hard if only to force me to prove how much I love you. We can figure out how to get through this and trust each other again, but you must want to reconcile as well, brother."

"I don't want anything from you," Loki says—an obvious lie, for his gaze is just as hungry as it ever was. "What I truly want is to _leave_ because every second here puts me at risk. But I can't, Thor, because you refuse to let go. And then there's _her_." Letting his eyes close, Loki shakes his head as if everything is lost, lost. "I should not have lingered here this long."

 _I should not have let myself care about any of you_ , he seems to say.

Thor sees a crack in the armor around his brother's heart. He gets off of the bed, but Loki only backs up a few steps to maintain the distance between them. "Why is being here putting you at risk?" Thor asks. "Tell me, and I will protect you from it. And do not pretend you find no comfort here yourself. I know you, Loki. You need your family every bit as much as I need mine."

When Loki opens his eyes, they're shining with tears, but his jaw tightens in defiance of them. "You are a piece of work. Since when have we acted like _family_? Sneaking about, naked and greedy, writhing under the sheets together. You've been here on Midgard for years—settled with your new family, forgetting the old. You have no idea what's been happening, Thor. You just _left_."

"As did you, brother," Thor says. "I made a choice to leave Asgard and wed Jane, yes, but that does not mean I purposefully abandoned you. You were _gone_. Dead. I needed a change, and now that you are here again, I can only try to do the right thing by you now. If you let me, I will support you, brother—the same way you came here to support me and force me to wake up after Jane died. I am so tired of fighting you."

As he speaks, he takes a few forward steps, slow and undemanding, and eventually Loki's back hits the wall. There's nowhere left to go. Reaching out, Thor tucks his brother's hair behind his ear and then touches the crook of his neck. "I have been selfish with my desire here," Thor continues. "I forced you into something, and you gave it to me. But Loki, I do not expect this from you, and I will stop if that is what you need. We can be brothers again—family—and that is it. I will always be your brother."

Another laugh, this one dripping with scorn. "I really think all we have done since I arrived is prove we aren't brothers at all," Loki says.

The words are painful to hear, reminding Thor exactly how twisted this all is. It obviously hurts Loki as well, and Thor wants to kiss that look of haunted grief off of his brother's face. Loki leans into Thor's hand like it's the only comfort he's had in years.

Yet the rub here is that if Thor takes advantage of this again, he's essentially telling Loki that he no longer sees him as family. There is nothing that could be further from the truth.

Thor rests his forehead against Loki's, hands falling to the soft strength of his little brother's arms. "Can't we just call it incest?" Thor says.

A tear streaks down Loki's face as he barks a laugh. Thor kisses the wet trail and then hauls his little brother in close for a hug. Though Loki resists it at first, his arms eventually encircle Thor's waist, and he squeezes just as tight.

It's a strange embrace. Brotherly—yet they're both clearly aware that they are also lovers. They're naked, chests and hips pressed together. Thor wants to touch him—to wipe all of these horrid feelings away with biting kisses and nails on skin. But some things are more important than lust.

"This is your choice, brother," Thor says, his mouth against Loki's hair. "You are always my family. No matter what else happens, that is a constant. I will not touch you again unless you ask me to. I swear it."

"You fool," Loki says. "We can never take this back." Bitter words, even as he rubs his face against his brother's shoulder, sighing in relief when Thor's hand comes to cover the back of his neck.

"Loki," Thor says. "Please tell me where you've been."

It takes a second for Loki to react, as if he's simply too tired and wants to give in—but then it comes, rolling in like the unstoppable passage of a freight train. Muscles tensing with near mindless frustration, Loki rears back from the embrace and shoves Thor away with every bit of strength in his possession.

* * *

Hours later, after the sun is up and Thor has showered and dressed, he knocks on the door of his daughter's bedroom. When there's no reply, he peeks his head in. An adoring smile finds his face a moment later.

There is a faint, peppery scent of magic in the air, likely one of Loki's nightlight spells that has dispersed with the sunlight. Samantha is sitting up in bed as if trying to decide if she wants to eat breakfast or snuggle back down under the covers for another hour. Her face is scrunched up, eyes closed, and lips drawn into a pucker. Her hair is a rat's nest gathered beneath one ear. Her room, however, is in perfect order, with every one of her toys set in its rightful place. It reminds Thor of Loki's flawlessly ordered room back in Asgard.

Thor's heart melts at the sight of his little girl, and he goes to her at once to catch her up in his arms. She's a warm bundle of sleepiness. Out of instinct, she hooks her legs around her father's middle, arms encircling his neck. It has been far too long since she's let him hold her, and he takes advantage of it, pressing kisses to her forehead and cherishing her sweet, babyish scent. He's able to enjoy a full minute of a lazy cuddle with her before she starts to rouse.

" _Daddy_ ," she protests, his shirt bundled up in her fists. "Put me down."

Which is the absolute last thing Thor wants to do. What he wants is to hold her all day or run around the backyard, pretending like they're on an adventure like they used to. "I thought we could spend some time together today," Thor says. "A trip to the park, perhaps? Whatever you want, you need only name it."

She stifles a yawn against his shoulder and then pushes back to look at him, lips set into a fearsome pout. "I have to pee, and I'm hungry."

Thor can't remember the last time he's felt more frustrated, first with Loki's evasion of his questions and now with Samantha's rejection of his love. Their father-daughter bond was always so effortless before, and now Thor can't figure out what has changed. He eyes the pile of books that she lined up carefully on her desk the night before and wonders if she might have an interest in those. "Do you want me to read to you?"

She shakes her head, putting her shoulders and torso into the movement as well. "I can read by myself. I don't need you to do it for me."

 _I don't need you_ , she seems to say. _I don't want you._

She looks to the doorway as if that might aid in her quest to get away, but Thor touches her chin, hoping to coax her into an actual conversation with him. "Remember when we used to be friends? I miss you, Sam, and I love you. I'm so sorry if I haven't been a good father of late. You are first in my heart, above any other. You know that, don't you?"

"Daddy, I have to _go_. Put me down."

She wiggles and kicks until he's forced to listen and set her on the ground. "Baby, please tell me what I'm doing wrong."

And what exactly is Loki doing right with her? Loki, whom Thor has never really understood himself, is the only person who has coaxed a smile or laugh out of her in more than a week. Thor knows she's really too young for the kind of conversation he wants to have with her. She probably doesn't even know what she wants. She only feels bad inside, and for reasons Thor doesn't understand, those feelings get worse when she looks at her father.

Without offering an answer, Samantha rushes off to the bathroom across the hall and shuts the door. Thor suspects she'll be in there for some time until she's certain her father has lost interest and has gone off elsewhere. He swallows the lump in his throat and glances around helplessly for something to occupy his mind. It takes only a few moments to tug her sheets and blanket into order again—but then there's nothing left to clean. Loki has already seen to it.

It leaves Thor feeling useless and unnecessary, and he doesn't know what to do about it. He's not used to others not needing him.

Loki passes by in the hallway, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. But when he glances into Samantha's bedroom and sees the look on Thor's face, he halts and asks, "Something wrong?"

The question is curt, only slightly interested. Loki is obviously still pissed at Thor after their earlier argument and is making little effort to hide it.

Thor gestures past Loki's shoulder in the direction of the bathroom door. "She won't talk to me. I don't understand what I've done wrong."

Loki lifts an eyebrow as if to say, _really?_

"Do you?" Thor asks, noting the pointed look. "Is it because I'm grieving? She's happier when you're distracting her."

Leaning against the doorjamb, Loki takes a sip of his coffee. "I think if you were happy in the wake of her mother's death, she would react much worse."

"What is it, then? Tell me if you know."

The side of Loki's mouth pulls into a smirk. "You don't really want me to answer that."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Thor asks, a little heat behind the words. "You're not doing this, are you? Poisoning her against me?"

Loki's smirk fades just as quickly as it appeared. "Right. Of course, you would think that."

"If that's not true, then tell me what it is."

"Thor, you may not realize it, but you are essentially asking me to hit you while you are down."

"Since when have you ever shied away from that?"

Thor knows he's being unfair and essentially provoking his brother into a negative response. But he feels as if he's lost control of everything and needs to understand what's going on so that he can attempt to reestablish some semblance of that control. Loki has far too many secrets in his keep, and it's high time he gave some of them up.

But perhaps Thor has pushed too hard at someone who is already angry. Loki glares at him for one long moment, lips set into a flat line of displeasure, as though he's choosing his words carefully to ensure each one delivers the most pain.

"You didn't save her mother," Loki says at last.

Thor winces, lips parting as the pain blossoms in his chest.

 _Oh_.

But Loki doesn't stop there. He elaborates, throwing his hands up in a sarcastic little cheer as he says, "You're the _celebrated hero_. The crowned prince. A veritable god existing alongside mortals. You've saved countless lives and prevented entire cities and realms from falling to ruin. You protect everyone, and yet when her mother fell ill, you didn't find a way to save her. That's why your daughter is angry with you, Thor. She's _disillusioned_. How I remember that feeling well, though admittedly, I was a bit older when I had that particular epiphany."

Thor is absolutely frozen in place. His lips work for a moment, but no words form. And Loki watches carefully as every syllable he uttered finds its target, his expression somewhere between satisfaction that he landed a hit and regret that he landed it so well.

This has always been the hardest thing for Thor to accept—the thing that keeps him up at night. Though gifted with such incredible strength, he has never been able to protect those he loves.

He's watched his brother die— _twice_. His mother. His wife.

All within easy grasp in their final moments, and yet he was not able to keep any of them safe. Having Loki voice his greatest fear is too much, and knowing he's exactly right is even worse.

Thor's face crumples. He sits down on the edge of Samantha's little princess bed and finally breaks. Quiet sobs shake through him before the tears even spring up in his eyes—the first tremble of a coming storm.

Turning to leave, Loki says, "Take your time. I'll keep her occupied until you come out."

"Brother."

At the sound of Thor's voice, pleading and broken, Loki halts in the doorway without turning around. He obviously wants to leave, and part of him probably even enjoyed hurting his brother like that. But he pauses and waits for Thor to tell him what he needs.

The problem is that Thor doesn't know what he's asking for. He's not used to feeling this helpless and broken inside. "I am sorry. You are right. Sam needs to be taken care of while I'm . . . ."

He puts his face in his hands as emotion overwhelms him. Even as he tries desperately to hold it back with his own strength, the dam crumbles between his fingers. His sobs are quiet, painful things. He's holding himself far too tense for anything else.

The bedroom door closes and then comes the sound of Loki's coffee mug being set down on Samantha's desk. A moment later, Loki's hand comes to rest on Thor's shoulder—a quiet pressure. Perhaps an apology.

Thor covers Loki's hand with his and says, "I'm sorry." He moves forward, pressing his face into Loki's stomach to hide there, arms wrapping around his little brother's middle as Loki's fingers find his hair. "I'm sorry," Thor says again, words muffled against his brother's stomach. "I'm so sorry."

As Thor keeps repeating the apology, Loki strokes his hair and neck. "Shhh. Just breathe."

Thor tries his best, but every breath catches in his throat and turns into a new sob. "Nothing is as it should be, and no matter how hard I try, it only worsens. I do not know what to do anymore."

"Why do you have to do anything?" Loki asks, the words calm and steady. "Far be it from me to offer you any sound advice, but this kind of thinking will not get you anywhere. There is nothing you can do to change the past, nor should you strive so hard to control the future. All is falling to madness around us, Thor. You cannot hope to catch every piece before it shatters."

"I am losing my daughter," Thor says. " _And_ you. I cannot simply stand by and watch it happen. I am not built that way, Loki. You're both here with me in this house, but for how long? Everyone around me ends up hurt. I am a curse."

"No," Loki says with a chuckle. "What you are is ridiculous and egotistical enough to assume everything is about you."

Thor pulls his head back to look up at his brother. "Is that meant to make me feel better?"

Loki shrugs as he brushes hair out of Thor's eyes. "Well, yes. Everyone dies. Does that mean every death is your fault—because you didn't throw yourself in the way first?"

"Sam thinks her mother's death is my fault," Thor reminds him. "Or at the very least, that I could have prevented it. You even said that yourself."

"She's a child. Why do you expect her to think and act like an adult? She will figure out her feelings in time, just as I did."

From behind the closed door comes the sound of running water. Then the bathroom door opens, and Sam's little feet go scampering down the hallway in search of the kitchen. The brothers are still for a moment—listening, waiting. They both know this moment has to end soon.

Thor gazes up at his brother warily and says, "What is it that you figured out?"

Yet another question he doesn't want to know the answer to.

"That you cannot save me." Loki's eyes are strangely bright and colorless as he says the words. "No one can, Thor. My path was carved out for me long ago. Fate drags us all along—regardless of where we wish to go, regardless of how cleverly we hide. It's why I won't answer your questions about where I've been. I don't want to watch you fail when you try to save me. Every time you do, I think it kills us both a little more inside."

The words drive the tears from Thor's eyes. He sobers and trembles, as if he's again faced with a moment where Loki is slipping away, down into an abyss. It's quite possibly the cruelest thing Loki has ever said to him. "I do not accept failure as a given," Thor says, his voice focused, strong again.

When Loki smiles, there's something wistful and twisted about it, as if he pities his brother. He strokes Thor's cheek, wiping away the moisture as he says, "Then you are in for a long life of strife and heartache, dearest brother. Ask yourself if it's really worth it."

"Of course, it is," Thor says without hesitation.

Leaning down, Loki repeats, "Of course, it is," before he kisses his brother on the mouth. Light and soft. Like a goodbye.

Thor's eyes narrow as realization dawns on him. "You're saying all these things to remind me what I'm fighting for, aren't you? You manipulative little trickster. Only you would use such tactics to set me in the right direction again."

Loki smiles, all slyness and mischief, as he runs his thumb across Thor's lower lip. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

They kiss again, and Thor tells himself that the wet heat of his brother's tongue is all right to taste because Loki initiated it. "Do you mean to tell me, then?" Thor whispers against Loki's lips. "Where you've been, I mean. Let me help you, brother. Even if I ultimately fail, I promise you I will fight until my strength gives out."

Loki grins against his brother's kiss. "You single-minded brute. We should see to your daughter, Thor. She's determined enough to empty the cabinets in search of her breakfast."

"She is fine. I want you to talk to me, Loki." Thor tightens his hold on his brother, making it clear he doesn't plan to let go. "You tell me now."

But Loki only tenses in his arms and pulls his face away. His gaze goes to the window, eyes wide but narrowing as if he's heard an intruder. His fingertips reach out to touch the billowy white curtains and draw them back to peek through the glass into the backyard.

Thor isn't buying his brother's act. "You are not going to distract me from this conversation again. Tell me the truth."

With a slow intake of breath through his teeth, Loki returns his gaze to Thor and says, "All-Father."

Thor lets Loki push his hands away and back up, but he's not happy that his little brother would use their safe-word in a verbal argument. That wasn't what it was meant for. "This is not how you resolve things, Loki. You can't just run away."

Loki gestures to the window, near frantic with alarm. " _The_ All-Father," he hisses. "He is _here_ , you idiot."

At that very moment, Samantha lets out a cry of alarm from elsewhere in the house.

* * *

Odin stands in the backyard, gazing up at the barren branches of the almond tree. A single leaf clings to one of the more slender twigs, but it blows away into the wind as the All-Father watches.

"Father," Thor says in greeting. He tries to keep his voice steady, but he's all too aware of the muffled sounds of his daughter's cries coming from the house. Odin has frightened her, dressed in his armor, Gungnir in hand, his face set like unforgiving stone.

Samantha has never met her grandfather before.

"My son," Odin replies in kind. When he turns, Thor is startled by how old his father looks. Odin's good eye is like a blue gem sparkling at him from the gray, withered face.

Anger and hurt burn in Thor's chest, for he has not seen his father in nearly a decade. Not when Samantha was born. Not when Jane fell ill. Not since Odin visited him years ago when Thor had first come to Midgard, acting as if he had no recollection of Thor's rejection of the throne.

"To what do I owe this visit?" Thor asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Loki.

Gods help them all, the All-Father knows about Loki.

"Well, I was merely curious," Odin says, a derisive lilt to the words. "Have you had any visitors of late?"

The base of Thor's spine tingles. He thinks he's going to be sick. "My wife recently died. Strange that I have not had more."

Odin doesn't react to Thor's subtle accusation. "You've been hidden from Heimdall's view."

"Have I?"

Thank the Norns for Loki's tricks.

"He alerted me when you did not reappear," Odin says.

"Well, as you can see, I am fine."

Odin looks Thor up and down as if he could not imagine a less desirable state for a Prince of Asgard to be in. "Where is your brother, Thor?"

Thor's shoulders tense. "What are you talking about? Loki is dead."

"No," Odin says. "He's not. And I think you know that just as well as I do."

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – Thanks for reading. More soon. :)


	8. Chapter 8

"Why did you not tell me Loki lives?" Thor asks.

Odin's fingers tighten around Gungnir, his face set in an expression of sardonic amiability. "And why do you not appear surprised by the news?" he counters.

The wind rustles through the bare branches of the almond tree, stirring the wooden chimes Jane hung there three summers ago. They clank together melodically, and yet their song is so inferior to any chimes or music found in Asgard. Faced with the heat of his father's scrutiny, Thor feels strangely protective over the chimes' stunted melody.

Odin and Thor stare at one another, neither of them willing to answer the other's question. It seems a shame, for they once shared a much closer bond than this. Thor is not used to feeling disconnected from his father, and the last ten years on Midgard are the first time he's understood what it feels like to be truly shunned by Odin. Thor experienced a taste of it during his banishment, to be sure, but that was a mere handful of days. Years have passed this time, and Asgard seems a lifetime away.

It seems strange to Thor that his father has chosen to visit him in person. When an errand is required, Odin normally employs others to leave the realm in his stead. But despite Thor's initial surprise and discomfort, he cannot deny that he is glad to see his father after so many long years.

It makes his throat ache, thinking of simpler times before his family was shattered.

"I am not here to punish you, my son," Odin says, his tone gentler, as if he senses the wistful shift in Thor's mood. "Though you look at me as though that is my intention. I came to retrieve a prisoner. And admittedly, to see you as well."

"Loki is my brother," Thor says. "I've a right to know if he lives or dies."

"I did not realize you still cared to know any news from Asgard, seeing as you've cast off your claim to the throne in favor of this lovely abode."

Odin turns a critical eye on the small backyard, with its broken stone pathway and chipped birdbath made of concrete and mismatched tile pieces. It might not be much, but Thor was happy here for a time with his family, finding joy in the simplicity of a Midgardian life. He loves this old house and all the memories it holds.

"And so you punish me by keeping Loki a secret?" Thor asks, choosing to ignore the slight. He loves his father still but is in no mood for his games.

"You aided in his first escape from our dungeons," Odin points out. "Do not forget that I could have had you imprisoned for that. I did not tell you because your judgment is clouded when it comes to your brother. I also felt I was protecting you. You have endured far too much pain at his hands. I wished to save you from more, for it will inevitably come."

Thor feels his pulse pound in his ears. Odin's excuse infuriates him, but he pushes that aside for now. "What do you mean by his first escape?" Thor asks. "Was there another?"

"Your brother was recaptured not long after the incident with the Convergence," Odin says. "However, some weeks ago, Loki escaped. I suppose that was my error. I let my guard down with him briefly, and he did not hesitate to take advantage of it. We have reason to believe he might be close, perhaps attempting to make contact with you. I advise you to take precautions to aid in his recapture should you cross paths."

Something about this explanation feels off to Thor, though he can't put his finger on exactly what it is that bothers him. All he knows is that he's seen the state of Loki—witnessed his strange behavior first hand—and Thor doesn't think a decade in Asgard's dungeons would have put such a haunted look of hunger in his eyes.

"Where have you been keeping him?" Thor asks, a feeling of dread spreading through his blood like melting ice.

Odin waits a beat too long to respond. "Why is that any of your concern?"

Thor has to take two breaths to steady his temper before speaking again. "You didn't have him where he was originally kept, did you? Someone would have told me."

While Odin had not visited Midgard in the last decade, Thor has seen his friends. Sif and the Warriors Three might have their qualms with Loki, but they would never willfully keep the knowledge of his survival from Thor.

With a sigh that feels like regret, Odin says, "Thor, you must understand that Loki is dangerous. Not only to others but to himself as well. Do you realize he attempted to usurp the throne after you aided in his escape?"

The tension in Thor's shoulders releases, the ache in his heart expanding until it reaches his head. He doesn't want to hear this. He desires nothing but peace, but how can he ever hope to protect his little brother when Loki brings so much trouble down on himself?

"Did he hurt anyone?" Thor asks.

"Not that particular time, no," Odin says. "Though I believe he allowed my heir to walk away from the throne and choose a life here instead, thinking he had his father's blessing."

Thor blinks and lets his gaze fall to the ground. "That was Loki?"

"You honestly thought it was me? That I would allow your treason to go unaddressed and my only son to abandon his claim to the throne?"

"And you imprisoned Loki afterwards," Thor says, finally connecting the pieces. It hurts him to think upon his brother's crimes, but at the same time, Thor feels a great deal of relief in finally knowing where Loki has been. Still, Thor should have known long ago. "Father, it has been close to ten years. Where were you keeping him?"

"Loki's path of self-destruction will not end unless he is put in a place where he cannot find a way to return to it," Odin says. "Though I am ever amazed at his resourcefulness at clawing his way back again."

"If you will not answer the question, then you must feel shamed by it."

After Thor speaks the words, he feels a bit amazed that he dared vocalize them at all. There was once a time such insolence would have driven Odin into a fury, but the All-Father only appears weary and burdened now. He holds Gungnir away from his body as if he no longer wants any part of it, yet there is still a small fire ablaze behind his good eye. Stubbornness and fatigue seem to war in his mind.

"Your brother was held in isolation," Odin says at last. "Only I and those charged with his care were aware of his situation. I did not wish to risk another attempt at escape, nor tempt others who might seek to aid or harm him. Your brother made many powerful enemies after his fall from Asgard, Thor. It is best they continue to think Loki dead."

Even if his father had told him Loki was kept in the lowest, foulest cell in Asgard, Thor could not feel more horrified. " _Isolation?_ "

His mind rejects the idea, and yet so much suddenly makes sense—particularly Loki's endless appetite for sleep and physical stimulation. Asgard's dungeons are equipped with cells meant to tame powerful enemies, usually those who were noncompliant and could not be tamed by any ordinary means. They kept the prisoner in a kind of suspended state—no sleeping, moving, or even blinking possible. Loki's health would have been perfectly maintained, with no food or water required to sustain him. Even his aging would have slowed.

In truth, all Loki would have been doing for the last ten years was thinking very long and hard about how he'd gotten himself there. No wonder he didn't want to think now.

"He was perfectly safe and cared for," Odin says, "particularly when taking into consideration that I could have easily justified executing him. If the council knew of his imprisonment, they likely would have pressured me to kill him. Think what you will, my son, but I have never sought to bring Loki to any harm. I spoke with him often during his imprisonment in hopes that he might finally come to see reason. There were even days I released him to partake in discussion with me, which was an unfortunate oversight on my part, for he used such an opportunity to escape. I trust I can count on you to aid in his recapture should he present himself to you?"

Thor stares at his father. Regardless of Odin's intentions, for someone like Loki, death would have been kinder than isolation.

Odin smiles tightly back, the lines on his face distracting and deep. Thor's mind has difficulty accepting the current waste of his father's body. "Were my heir in Asgard at my side," Odin says, "perhaps I would be willing to hear counsel on alternate forms of punishment. Loki did not have his mother to intercede for him, I'm afraid. My idea of punishment is admittedly stringent when no one is there to mediate."

Anger rises up in Thor's throat. He knows his father can be manipulative at times, but to use Loki in such a way—as a means to convince Thor to return to Asgard—is too much. "I have a child now," Thor says. "Her home is here on Midgard."

Odin's jaw tightens. "A child's home is wherever the parent decides. She will adjust."

Though Thor can no longer hear Samantha's cries from the house, he sees the corner of her bedroom curtains drawn back by her little fingers and knows she's watching. He longs to go to her to make certain she's all right. "I will consider your offer," Thor says, shifting on his feet impatiently. "Though I admit, I have no current plans to return to Asgard."

"And Loki?" Odin asks, his tone thinned with irritation.

It's all Thor can do to keep his temper at bay. He has no right to challenge the King of Asgard. But with his child cowering in the house and his brother's whereabouts unknown, Thor would very much like the All-Father to take his leave so that Thor can begin sorting out this mess. "As I said, I will consider your offer."

Odin's chin lowers as he sharpens his focus on his son. He seems to sense his dismissal and does not bother to conceal his displeasure with it. "Very well," Odin says. "Call out to Heimdall if and when your brother reveals himself to you. That is an order, my son. Though you have grown comfortable here amongst those lesser than you, do not forget that you are still a citizen of Asgard. It was not your king who released you from your obligations to the realm."

Never before in his life has Thor felt threatened by his own father or duties to Asgard. Uneasiness mixes with the anger burning inside of him, leaving him feeling ill and strangely cold. "Yes, Odin-King. I will not forget."

* * *

Even after Odin is gone, Thor cannot shake the feeling that he's being watched. Throughout his life, he's never felt quite _this_ bothered by the idea of Heimdall's gaze on him. It has always been an annoyance getting in the way of boyish mischief, but Thor has never before had a secret this significant to conceal. Even his minor acts of treason pale in comparison to harboring a known criminal and engaging in relations with his own brother.

"Sam?" Thor calls as he enters the backdoor. The house feels silent, vacant. He doesn't dare call out for Loki. "Samantha?"

Just as he's nearing the hallway, she comes running around the corner and right into his arms. He catches her up into a hug at once and cradles the back of her head. It's not long before he feels her tears soak through his shirt. "Uncle Loki," she sobs. "He's not here. Daddy, _find him_."

Somehow Thor knew when he returned to the house that Loki would be gone, but the confirmation of those suspicions leaves Thor feeling as though the wind has been driven from his lungs. "Shhh," he says, rocking her back and forth. He looks around, though he knows without searching that they are the only two people in the house. He knows the unbalanced feeling of his brother's absence all too well. "Calm down, baby."

She rears back to look at him. "Did that pirate man take him?"

Thor can only imagine how strange the All-Father must have appeared to her, with his golden eye patch and spear glinting in the morning light. "No, he didn't," Thor says, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "That was my father. Your grandfather. He will not harm you."

This information has no effect on Samantha, for she's never met Odin before. The look of fear and uncertainty on her face helps Thor stuff down his own emotions. He might feel panicked himself, but he can discipline his distress for her sake, to keep her calm.

"Look at me," Thor says, gently touching her chin when her face drops. "Your uncle is very clever, and he went somewhere safe. You want him to be safe, don't you?"

Samantha nods, though she still appears absolutely heartbroken. "But why did he have to leave?"

It doesn't escape Thor that this is the most his daughter has opened up to him since her mother's death. Samantha stares at Thor as she once did, as if convinced her father is literally capable of saving the world after dropping her off at school or tucking her into bed at night. There's trust in her eyes, and Thor doesn't realize until he sees it again that it was gone for a time.

"Not everyone leaves, Sam," Thor says, resting his forehead against hers. "I am right here, and I would never leave you willingly. And those who have gone did not do so to hurt you or make you feel this way. Your mother and your uncle—they would not have left if they could help it."

She's too young to completely absorb these words, but she understands the steadfast strength of her father's arms. Samantha buries her face in his shoulder and hides there, letting her father press kisses into her hair and rub her back.

* * *

Samantha and Thor spend the day cuddled on the couch, pretending to watch cartoons, though both of their minds are obviously elsewhere. With every car that passes on the street or person ambling by along the sidewalk, Samantha looks at the front door expectantly, as if hoping her uncle has finally returned. Whenever her eyes well up with tears of disappointment, Thor mutes the sound and talks to her quietly until she settles back down again.

He tells her a funny story about the first time Jane met Loki, and when Samantha's lips curl into an amused smile, she's an absolute mirror image of Frigga.

They nap together in the late afternoon hours, and he lets her eat ice cream for dinner and skip her bath before bedtime. When he tucks her into bed, she plays with his sleeve and asks in a whisper, "Will he come back?"

Her hushed tone makes Thor feel like she's afraid to hope—as if the very act of asking the question might jinx her chances.

"I don't know, Sam," Thor says, unwilling to lie to her. "That is beyond either of our control. I hope so."

* * *

Thor waits until she's asleep before leaving her, and it's not until he closes her bedroom door that he allows himself to indulge in any display of emotion. He leans against the hallway wall between his daughter's school pictures and puts his face in his hands, taking in a few steadying breaths.

He doesn't know what to think, but he knows every bit of it hurts—to know that Loki betrayed Asgard yet again, that he suffered, that he thought Thor knew of his suffering and didn't care, that he left again likely thinking Thor would hand him over to Odin at once.

Which is exactly what Thor is now required to do, by direct order of the All-Father. To ignore such a command is to commit treason.

* * *

When Thor is finally able to find sleep, it's fitful and without comfort. The bed is cold and the emptiness impossible to reconcile his heart with. He spends long stretches of the night staring at the ceiling and worrying about where his brother might be forced to find sleep.

When he begins to drift, his dreams center on Loki's blank, unresponsive stare. Samantha plays with her uncle, pretending to steal away his nose, ears, eyes, and mouth until Loki is entirely without senses. Samantha giggles at the empty face without realizing it's not a game at all.

Thor awakens with a choked gasp, covered in a light sheen of sweat. The clock on the nightstand blinks angry, red numbers at him that he barely comprehends, and there's a rumble of thunder in the distance. An approaching storm.

As raindrops begin to pelt the roof and windows, Thor pulls himself out of bed, unwilling to lie there any longer. He'd fallen asleep in just his jeans, and so he puts on a t-shirt before heading to the bathroom to splash water on his face. It's jarringly cold and bites at his nerve endings in a very needed way, waking him up and pulling his mind out of unpleasant places.

The air tingles with the promise of lightning as well as with something else. The house feels different—somehow balanced and settled. Thor frowns and shuts off the water.

He goes to Samantha's room to check on her and nearly launches into a panic when he sees that her bed is empty, the sheets and blanket in a fitful tangle, much like his own.

"Sam?" he calls, rushing out of the room.

The hallway bathroom is dark and unoccupied, as is the kitchen up ahead, but from the living room comes the faint, familiar glow of seidr. When he recognizes it, Thor wonders if he's still ensnared within a dream. His pace slows for a beat, but then he's running toward the melancholy dance of the golden light.

Despite his anxiousness, Thor stops dead in his tracks when he sees them. There on the couch sits Loki with Samantha hugged protectively to his chest. She's passed out asleep, facing him with her tear-stained cheek pressed against his heart, his shirt bundled up in her fists.

Loki stares into the darkness, his eyes and face lit by the golden glow of the magic flower he made for her. It spins and glistens, hovering just above the coffee table.

"I didn't hurt her," Loki says quietly without looking at his brother. Lightning flashes through the window, further illuminating his profile. "I wouldn't do that."

Thor feels like if he moves too fast, his brother will fade into nothing—lost forever. Cautiously, he approaches the couch and crouches down in front of Loki. "I know that," Thor says, the words accompanied by the quiet grumble of thunder. "I didn't think you would come back."

"I wasn't going to." Loki strokes the long length of Samantha's hair down her back. "I only meant to say goodbye to her since I left so abruptly. And then she started crying, and now here we are. Manipulative little brat." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, eyes drifting shut as if he's exhausted. The shadow of raindrops sliding down the windows paint trails like tears on his face.

Thor's hand closes around his little brother's knee. "You weren't going to say goodbye to me?"

Loki snorts. "You'll live."

"You think I'm going to hand you over to him, don't you?"

"I know you will—your father's dutiful son to the end."

"I am also a brother. Loki, I swear to you, I did not know you were alive, nor that our father had you in isolation. I would have fought for you. I will fight for you still."

When Loki's eyes open to focus on Thor, they're like gems of pale fire in the seidr's light. He says nothing.

"You do not believe me," Thor observes.

Loki's reply comes in the form of a scathing little smile. "Even if I did, you cannot hope to fight against the will of your king. He could legally sever your head from your neck for concealing me. Now that I've escaped his dungeons a second time, he will no doubt take an axe to mine."

Thor looks briefly at Samantha, worried about her hearing such talk, but she sleeps on. "Father would not kill you, even now," Thor says.

"And what is there to stop him? Mother is dead."

"I am here."

"Exactly," Loki says. "You're _here_. Not in Asgard. What good would you do me on Midgard?"

"Do you honestly think I would stand by if I knew our father meant you real harm?" Thor says. "I stay on Midgard because Jane made me promise to raise our daughter here. She felt Sam would be discriminated against in Asgard."

Loki shifts in his seat, as if confronted with something he doesn't want to admit. "Your Jane might have been mortal, but she had her moments of intelligence. She was correct in her assumptions. You should keep your half-blooded daughter far away from Asgard unless you wish her to grow up as I did. There is nothing you can do for me, Thor. I must leave. It's best for everyone if I evade capture altogether."

He attempts to appear calloused and determined as he says the words, but Thor knows his brother well enough to see through it. Loki's eyes hold a naked vulnerability. Whatever lies his tongue might formulate, he does not want to leave. His arms tighten around Samantha as if trying to shield her from the rain that beats at the roof.

"I should not have lingered here this long," Loki says, his tone almost dreamy. "I should not have come at all."

Thor squeezes Loki's knee as if to anchor him back in the present moment. "Father said you escaped Asgard weeks ago. Where have you been in that time?"

Loki gives a dry chuckle and looks away. "Enjoying myself. Let's not go into further detail with your child present."

"No one hurt you?" Thor asks, watching his brother's face very carefully for any hint of a lie.

"Not without my permission. You are so very dramatic, Thor."

Somehow that reply does not make Thor feel any better. He thinks about his brother letting a stranger hurt him just so that he can regain his sense of feeling after so many years in isolation.

"If you assumed I would only take you back to Asgard, why did you come here after Jane died?" Thor asks.

Loki shrugs and attempts to appear nonchalant, though it's not very convincing when that haunted look refuses to leave his eyes. "To gloat mostly. And then I saw you here, pathetic and struggling with grief." A regretful sigh—painful to hear. "Oh, Thor. How I do hate you."

"I think you must be mistaken," Thor says. "For you to risk capture to come here to help me through my grief sounds very much like love."

Loki rolls his eyes but does not refute the statement.

"We are family," Thor says, sliding his hand up until it comes to encircle Loki's forearm. "We need each other. I can exist without you, but I am not whole. I think you know that feeling as well."

A long moment of silence passes between them, filled only with the muted roar of the storm and the sound of Samantha's steady breathing. Thor watches Loki take the words into his mind and feel them out, not quite believing them but not outright rejecting them either.

"I cannot stay, Thor," Loki says at last. "Surely you recognize that now. I told your daughter I would be here when she awoke, and so I will consent to stay the night. Then I must go. Heimdall's blindness will alert the All-Father, but he does not gaze upon you consistently. I will visit when I can."

This reply does not rest easy within Thor, but he doesn't know what else to say. He's already committing treason simply by refusing to call out to Heimdall. "I hate this," Thor says.

Loki makes a sound of amusement deep in his throat but then seems to grow wistful, reflective. "How did everything become so destroyed? I spent countless hours in that cell, trying to determine the precise moment I lost my mind and descended into madness. I never did figure it out. All I know is that when I woke up, everything I loved was laid to ruin at my own hands."

Thor blinks at his brother, absolutely amazed. While he's sensed repentance in Loki before this moment, it's another thing entirely to hear him actually speak of regret and acknowledge his part in it. Thor's fingers tighten on Loki's forearm. "Not everything," Thor says.

"I thought about you endlessly," Loki says, his eyes shining with emotion both hateful and adoring. "The years began to tick by, and you did not come. I never thought you would refuse to come. I think that's what broke me in the end. If I did something so horrible that you would cut me out with such absolute finality, then I truly must be a monster beyond saving."

"No one is beyond saving," Thor says. "Though as we discussed earlier today, I do not exactly have a strong history of saving you in the past. Perhaps you are meant to rescue yourself."

Loki's lips twist into a wry smile. "Well, therein lies my problem. That will certainly never happen."

There's a hint of the little boy Thor remembers in Loki's eyes—perhaps a ghost of the past, but Thor hopes it's instead a glimpse at the future. He reaches to cup Loki's cheek in his palm. "You are worth saving, brother. You have to believe that if you ever hope to save yourself."

Loki laughs spitefully but leans into Thor's hand as if starving for this reassurance, even if he doesn't believe it. His eyes close, and he sighs as Thor strokes his cheekbone with his thumb. Thor's other hand is pressed against the warm strength of Loki's thigh, the fingers moving slowly as if asking a question and providing the answer all at once.

The moment sharpens and blurs at the same time—breaths slowing, desire surfacing.

"Let's put Sam to bed," Thor suggests.

"Yes." Loki wets his lips. "Let's."

* * *

Once Samantha is tucked safely away, the struggle begins.

They meet in the hallway, mouths straining for one another, fingers already tearing at fabric. Outside, the storm has reached its peak, the wind beating at the house. It seems to feed into their movements, fueling their hunger as if they think they might never have another chance to taste each other.

Thor's hand molds to the muscled curve of Loki's ass, his fingers pressed between the crease, rubbing the denim against the place he seeks. Loki breaks away from the kiss with a moan, and when his head falls back, Thor dips down to taste the working of his brother's throat.

"I said I would not touch you again unless you asked," Thor reminds him, his fingers rubbing Loki's entrance through his jeans. "Tell me you want this."

Loki's hand closes around Thor's cock. "Is that a joke?"

They stagger down the hallway, the antithesis of grace, mouths hungry and clothing getting in the way of impatient hands. Their dragging feet draw up static friction that tingles up their bodies, further exciting them.

As soon as they're in the bedroom, Loki's shirt hits the floor. A few of the buttons are missing, and there's a rip in the collar. Thor pushes his brother against the closed door and seeks out his tongue with his own, reacquainting himself with the feel of it before he bites and kisses a blazing trail down Loki's throat and between his collarbones. "Seal the door," Thor orders before his lips close over Loki's nipple.

Loki makes a kind of choked sound, and his knees bend and give. Thor swirls his tongue over the tight, pink nub and holds his brother upright when he starts to sink downward. One of Loki's palms flattens against the door to bespell it, and the wood warms in response behind his back.

They both seem to sense how dangerous this is, knowing they could face capture at any moment. After all, they're both traitors now. The worry turns their craving for each other into desperation. This could be their last time at each other's lips. It's senseless and reckless, but they cannot seem to stop

Thor releases Loki's nipple and takes only a moment to admire the mark he left around it before moving to the other to do the same. He feels absolutely drunk with his desire for this. He wants the evidence of his claim all over Loki's skin—and driven deep inside.

Loki pulls almost violently at Thor's shirt until he's forced to give in and allow Loki to yank it over his head. Hugging his little brother around his waist, Thor picks Loki up and pulls him away from the door. Loki's cock is an unyielding jab against Thor's stomach, nearly as sharp as his belt buckle. As Thor carries his brother to the bed, they linger at each other's lips, eyes open and locked.

With purposeful slowness so that he can feel every ounce of friction, Thor lowers his brother down to sit on the edge of the bed. Loki immediately fumbles with the button on Thor's jeans. The zipper spreads open without further coaxing, straining to make way for the unfolding of Thor's erection.

"Shall I suck you off?" Loki asks, eyes alight with mischief. Thunder rumbles, the loudest strike yet, vibrating the walls down to the foundation.

Once he frees Thor's cock from his jeans, Loki strokes and works the foreskin back with near loving reverence. But he's all insolence and wickedness as he turns his eyes upward and rests Thor's cock on the flat of his tongue. He licks a deliberate path to the tip and across the slit to taste the beaded evidence of Thor's arousal.

It's all Thor can do to remain standing. The sight is unspeakably stimulating—to see someone so full of defiance in such a position of willful obedience. Loki's lips close around the rosy-tipped head, his mouth like a little oven, the heat and pressure coaxing more blood to fill Thor's erection. His fingers tighten in Loki's hair, hips moving without him realizing it, and Loki heaves a satisfied sigh. His eyes are shut now, and he sucks like he finds absolute pleasure in the feel of Thor bumping against the back of his throat.

"Loki," Thor whispers. "Brother."

Loki laughs, sending humming vibrations up the length of Thor's cock and deep into the pit of his abdomen. Pulling his mouth away, Loki smiles up at his brother as he strokes his erection, which is now slick and glistening with saliva.

"You are depraved," Loki says like he can't think of anything more delightful for his brother to be.

Breathing hard, Thor runs his finger along Loki's bottom lip and pushes it inside his mouth. "I'd rather be that than ever say we're not brothers."

Loki's lips stretch into a smile around Thor's thumb. He likely thinks he's distracting Thor with his mischievous side, but there's something vulnerable reflected behind Loki's eyes. It's a glimpse of Thor's little brother from before his fall from Asgard.

A rush of relief and gratefulness washes over Thor, and he leans forward to take Loki's face into his hands and kiss him. There's no denying that this is a kiss of love and not lust. Even Loki seems to give into it, putting his hands over Thor's and holding them there as he works his lips over his brother's.

They melt onto the bed, scooting backwards until Loki's head hits the pillow. As Thor kisses his brother and feels him responding, he realizes this is the kind of intimacy he's been craving and Loki has been fighting since his arrival—only he's not fighting it now. Thor grasps and hugs his brother more fervently for the realization. His hands move down Loki's arms, squeezing the muscles, giving him the physical stimulation he seems to desire. Loki moans against Thor's mouth in encouragement.

Thor's fingers work to undo Loki's belt, and they break away from the kiss long enough to tug and kick both pairs of jeans off. Thor holds himself up on his hands and knees while Loki settles down onto his back, his cock in hand. Like Thor, he's flushed with arousal, pupils blown out and enormous in the darkness.

It's only the addictive sight of Loki touching himself that keeps Thor from moving to lick the bead of moisture from the tip of his brother's cock. Thor's head buzzes with mindless yearning as he fumbles around in the nightstand drawer for the lubricant. "I can't find—"

"Leave it," Loki orders. He reaches to take Thor's cock into his free hand, stroking both of their erections at the same time. "I can handle it, if you recall."

Loki might crave the pain, but that doesn't mean Thor has any desire to hurt him. "Roll over and let me prepare you."

Loki lifts his brow but moves onto his stomach without comment. Thor arranges a pillow beneath Loki's abdomen so that his hips are elevated. The shapely rise of his ass fits nicely within both of Thor's palms. He spreads Loki apart and leans down to tease his tongue along the base of his brother's balls before swiping upward to the tight pucker. Loki gasps and tenses, but Thor can tell he likes it. He works harder, licking and probing until Loki is thrusting into the pillow in an effort to bring himself off.

After every one of Loki's nerve endings is alight, Thor puts his fingers in his mouth to get them nice and wet. He applies a good bit of saliva to Loki's entrance and eases a finger inside, just the tip at first but soon working the wetness deeper. Thor doesn't miss the slight wince from Loki—he must be sore from how many times they've done this—but he says nothing in protest. Loki takes his lower lip between his teeth and concentrates on breathing as Thor works his finger in and out. When the tension leaks out of Loki, Thor adds a second. Loki's breaths start to dive into acceleration, but the grip against Thor's fingers relaxes as Loki opens up to him.

Still, Thor is not fully convinced it's enough. "Are you certain you don't want me to—"

Breath hisses out between Loki's teeth. "Yes. Don't stop." He's moving with desperation now, fucking himself backwards onto Thor's fingers and rubbing his cock against the pillow.

Thor's erection is still wet with Loki's saliva, but Thor adds a bit of his own to help, particularly around the tip. Even then, when he pulls his fingers out of Loki and presses his cock to his entrance instead, Loki's movements come to an abrupt halt. He groans and tenses as Thor applies pressure.

Hoping to soothe his brother, Thor rubs his palm against the velvety smoothness of the small of Loki's back. "Just breathe."

He rocks his hips in shallow movements, pushing up against Loki's hole until it finally spreads and accepts his girth. Loki cries out, something between pain and relief. Just when Thor is wondering if his brother truly wishes to keep going, Loki thrusts back against him, impatiently asking Thor to start moving and delving deeper.

Thor's eyes close as he begins to lose himself in the sensation. Without lubricant, the push and pull is felt so much more by both of them—riding the fine line between pain and pleasure.

He readjusts his fingers on Loki's hips. "Too much?" he asks in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes," Loki says. "Keep going."

Conflicting information, but every movement within Loki gets easier, and so Thor presses on. He lowers his body down on top of Loki's, threading his fingers through his little brother's and kissing the warm neck.

Loki turns his face so that his cheek rests on the pillow, and Thor rubs his mouth against his brother's temple, breathing in all he can of Loki's scent, holding it in his lungs and memorizing it. Thor picks up his pace, hugging Loki to his chest as he ruts into him from behind, able to thrust a little deeper with each passing second. It's perfect, giving Loki the friction he craves while Thor is able to claim intimacy for himself.

The idea that he won't have his little brother come morning is suddenly unbearable. "I do not want you to leave," Thor says, gasping between the words. "I will not let you."

Loki laughs breathlessly. "My ass feels that good, does it?"

Thor's arms tighten around him. "Do not joke. I will speak to our father."

"Can we not—mmmm, _oh, fuck_." Loki angles his hips upward to allow his brother to drive even deeper. Every other word is accented by the jolt of Thor's pounding. "Can we not discuss your father at this precise moment?"

"This is your home," Thor says. "I want you to trust me. I will not give you up, even to Asgard."

Loki's laughter again mocks his brother's declaration, but his derisive mirth is short-lived. His smile fades as Thor hugs him closer and presses his lips to Loki's cheek.

"I love you, brother," Thor says. "You are worth saving."

Loki tenses beneath him, eyes squeezing shut, his fingers worrying at the blanket as if he suddenly wants to find a way out of this trap. "I cannot breathe."

Thor hauls Loki upward, hugging him to his chest as Thor sits back onto his knees. Still fully seated within his brother, Thor slows his thrusts to shallow, circular nudges while he allows Loki time to catch his breath and regain his bearings. But sooner than expected, Loki begins to unwind and lose himself again. He takes his cock in hand, crying out as he fucks himself backwards onto Thor.

But something soon seems to frustrate him with this position, and Loki unseats himself without explaining why. With deft movements honed by impatience, he turns around in Thor's lap so that they're facing each other. Their mouths touch without kissing as Loki guides Thor's cock back to its target. Loki's lips part against Thor's in a little _O_ while he sinks downward, spreading wide to accommodate his brother.

The kisses start to come then—greedy little things that elicit just as much satisfaction as they do hunger. Loki works his mouth and tongue against his brother's, one arm hooked around Thor's neck so that their connection never falters, even as Loki's movements increase with speed and intensity.

Thor brushes Loki's hand aside so that he can stroke his little brother's cock himself. "I love you," Thor whispers again, searing the words against his brother's lips.

Loki falters only momentarily this time. The distraction is enough to cause them to fall back onto the bed with Thor positioned on top, their thrusts and kisses continuing in perfectly timed dissonance. They roll and cling to each other, white, bloodless fingertips urging the other impossibly closer. It's a clawing battle and a quiet meeting of the minds all at once.

The flicker of distant lightning briefly paints their shadows onto the mattress, like a fleeting snapshot of time. Thor thinks he might feel dampness on his brother's cheeks and that Loki's unintelligible whispers might contain mention of that sentiment he strives so hard to protect himself from.

"Brother," Loki gasps, asking for something he won't name.

"I know," Thor replies. "I've got you. I swear it."

They've done this now so many times that Thor has lost count, but it's the very first time they've mutually admitted they're making love.

* * *

To be continued.

A/N – Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for your reviews and kudos! It means so much to me to hear from you. Take care!


	9. Chapter 9

The shower steam hangs heavy in the air, drifting and morphing but never quite taking form. Loki's head is angled downward, water dripping from his hair and the points of his face—bloodless, white fingers gripping the shower walls to brace himself. His lips are spread apart as if to speak or cry out, but no sound save for the broken cadence of his breathing can be heard over the falling water.

With quiet determination, Thor stands behind him, his chest molded to his brother's back, his hand full of soapsuds and Loki's cock.

It's almost too humid to breathe. Impossible to see through the haze to latch onto reason. Thor licks water off of his brother's trembling shoulder and uses his free hand to tip Loki's chin up, as if hoping to steal one of those gasping breaths for himself. Loki's head falls helplessly back onto his brother's shoulder, and Thor trails his wet fingertips down the desperate working of Loki's throat. His skin is overheated, color burning high on his cheeks and in the center of his chest.

"T-Thor." Loki barely manages the name. Under the pressure of his grip on the shower wall, a piece of tile breaks off and clatters to the floor. "We are going . . . _we are going to get caught_. We cannot . . . this is . . ."

Thor's fingers tighten around Loki's neck, not with the intention to choke but merely to encourage peaceful surrender. It's not a difficult thing to claim from one already falling to pieces. If Thor were to let go of his brother, Loki would likely wilt to the shower floor. Thor gently bites at the exposed throat and rocks his hips, reminding Loki of the cock buried to the hilt in his ass. As if he could forget.

The myriad of sensation is too much. Loki clenches up, his knees giving out as his seed spills hot over Thor's hand, mixing with the soap. Thor holds his brother harder against his chest to keep him upright. Even as Loki cries out in frustrated relief, his throat warm and vibrating against the palm of Thor's hand, Thor simply stares straight ahead. His mind is working, even as he fucks into his brother.

Loki is right—they are going to get caught, and soon. But Thor has attained a single-minded focus on this problem, and though he doesn't yet know how, he refuses to lose another loved one. Not to death, nor to fear. And so he stands like an unmovable pillar, defiant to any who might tear them apart.

* * *

"We are going to get caught," Loki says for the hundredth time since his reappearance the night before.

Thor dries his face and afterward, tosses the well-worn towel to his brother. He reaches for another and wraps its length around his waist. "And yet we haven't. Your spell on the door affords us privacy, does it not?"

"Yes, but that does not mean there isn't a welcoming party awaiting me on the other side of it." The color has not left Loki's face from the heat of the shower. Points of red stain his cheeks and chest. His hair is wet and curled, barely skimming his water-speckled shoulders.

"Do you remember when we were young, and you trusted your brother to protect you?" Thor asks, his tone a bit softer.

Loki snorts and scrubs the towel through his hair. He uses his seidr to pull water from the strands, and when he sets the now sodden towel aside, his hair is perfectly dried, though still curled. "From the frost giants? Yes. And as I recall, you failed most miserably, seeing as I am one. Oh, and let's not forget that one instance of you dragging me to Jotunheim to incite a war."

"But you trusted me," Thor says. "Yesterday, you spoke of your disillusionment. I am not perfect, Loki, but you are my brother. I will not give up on you. Though I have made mistakes in the past, I swear I will do my utmost to protect you today. Now. You do not have to leave."

"I'm better off striving to protect myself." Loki combs his fingers back through his hair, and the curls half-obey his command to straighten. Without his usual supply of oils and tonics, he has not had much luck taming the natural wave of his hair. "Or better yet—fleeing. If you would but allow me to leave, I could do precisely that."

"If you truly desired to depart from this place, I would not be able to prevent it. And yet you are still here. Perhaps you trust me more than you let on."

"I promised your daughter I would remain until she awoke," Loki reminds him, the words clipped. "It was the only way to coax the little brat to sleep again. Do not presume it to be for another reason."

Thor's eyes trace the lines of his brother's lean body down to the floor. Though Loki's mind is obviously troubled, his muscles hold little tension. His eyes silently plead, as if he's completely wrung out but has finally tasted real rest for the first time in so very long. He's starving for it now. It solidifies Thor's determination to keep his brother here. He needs this—to be able to _save_ someone for once.

"No, brother," Thor says. "I know you well. You would not have returned last night if you did not feel a pull to remain here. This is your home now. Despite what you say, I choose to believe you've accepted that truth, even if you will not admit it to yourself."

"I am not the one in denial here, Thor," Loki says. "This was never going to last, much like the hope that I might not intrinsically be a monster or that your mindless bravery would always meet with triumph. Shine too much light on who we really are, and you will regret ever stepping out of the shadows of ignorance at all. The sun is up, brother. I thank you for the offer of refuge, but it is now time to say goodbye."

The words make Thor feel as if he's taken a physical blow, yet he stands firm. Loki's faith might be shattered, but that only makes Thor want to fight harder. "You will be the one to tell Sam that, then," he says. "And I must admit, brother, I do not envy you of that task."

* * *

"Did you sleep in my daddy's room last night?" Samantha asks.

Simultaneously, Loki and Thor stop what they're doing and simply blink at her—Loki with a doppio espresso poised before his lips and Thor battling with a mouthful of buttered toast.

With her fists pressed into her cheeks and elbows on the table, Samantha pouts down at her cereal, which has grown mushy through inattention. "I woke up, and the guest bedroom was empty," she continues. "You said you'd stay."

"I, uh." Loki sets his cup down on the counter where he leans. "Well, you see . . ." He trails off and presses his lips together, as if hesitant to lie to his niece though not knowing what else to say.

It does not escape Thor's notice that Samantha is one of the few people Loki seems determined not to deceive in any way—perhaps a result of his own childhood plagued with deception. It makes Thor wonder if it is children in general that Loki is protective of, or simply his niece.

Thor chews and struggles to swallow before speaking. "We talked late into the night," he explains as he closes the lid of Samantha's freshly packed lunchbox. Loki says nothing to refute this, for it is not a lie. There were indeed words exchanged, among other things.

When Samantha looks up from her cereal, her brow is pinched in the middle. "About Uncle Loki leaving?"

The brothers exchange a glance, Thor's gaze imploring, Loki's hard and disapproving. "That matter is still under discussion," Thor says.

"And perhaps now is not the best time to engage in that discussion," Loki says. "Lovely niece, you would do well to eat your breakfast. The vile yellow vehicle that transports you to the pitiable excuse of a Midgardian education will arrive shortly."

"But I don't like this cereal," Samantha says. "And you'll leave if I go to school." She shoves her bowl away, the abrupt movement causing milk to spill onto the table. "Can I have a cookie?"

"No," Thor says. "You already had too many sweets last night."

Her cheeks puff out in a fearsome pout, blue eyes blazing from the redness of her face. "I'm not going to school."

Sensing the incoming temper tantrum, Thor and Loki both straighten their posture, arms crossed over their chests as if they're assessing an unexpected opponent. Samantha glares back at them, unimpressed.

"If you will not eat your cereal, I will prepare you something that you may take with you," Thor says. "Go and fetch your shoes."

Samantha leans forward, her little fingers gripping the tabletop. "I'll throw them in the birdbath."

Ducking his head down, Loki quickly covers his mouth to hide his amusement.

Thor shoots his brother a warning glare and tries again. "Sam, you are going to school. This matter is not up for discussion."

"I'll cough all over everyone," Samantha says, "and yell and scream and pretend I have rabies. Then you'll have to come get me and bring me home again."

Loki's hand falls away from his mouth and grips his stomach instead as he dissolves into laughter. Samantha beams.

"Stop encouraging her," Thor snaps at his brother. "I hope you realize this is your fault for telling her you would leave."

"Darling," Loki says once his laughter has calmed. "You must understand—it is not safe for me here."

"So?" Samantha says. "My daddy will protect you. He has a hammer with thunderstorms in it."

Thor's mouth twitches into a smile as he watches his daughter face down the God of Mischief. It comforts him to hear her speak of her belief in him in such a way, as if something broken between them has started to knit itself back together again. "Precisely what I told him," Thor says.

Lifting an eyebrow at his brother, Loki makes a speculative sound in his throat. He returns his attention to his niece and says, "What if I promise to visit you when I'm able? We are not parting forever."

As if on command, Samantha's eyes begin to shine with tears. Her lower lip protrudes, chin dimpled and trembling. "No. You live here with us."

"Oh, no." Loki winces and looks away, adjusting his standing position. "No, no—do not do that. You are not going to manipulate _me_ , little enchantress. I practically invented the art-form."

Samantha's eyes glint with momentary defiance before overflowing with tears. The twin rivers of sorrow drip from her downcast face. "But you're my friend," she whimpers. "Why does everyone always leave me?"

Loki gapes at her as if she's unfurled a weapon of unimaginable power. "This is a trap. You cannot seriously think I would be cowed over by childish simpering. Dearest niece, you are delightful in a great number of ways, but I fear you have underestimated the power of your—oh, _damn it all_. I will stay."

Outside, the school bus rumbles past the house without stopping, and Samantha's mouth spreads into a slow smile of triumph. Her tears end at once. Two battles won against her uncle and father with hardly any effort spent on her part at all.

"I suppose that means you may stay home," Thor says. "If only so that you might help convince your uncle to see reason. Let us consider it a family emergency."

With a bright grin, Samantha gets out of her chair and runs over to Loki. "You're not going anywhere," she declares as she wraps her arms around one of his legs. "Try to walk now."

Loki hisses out a breath. "You are a badly behaved child with reprehensible schemes that I do not find adorable in the least."

"You love me," Samantha says, hugging his leg tight.

"Mmm," Loki says, and the sound feels something like an agreement. He looks up at his brother with no trace of amusement on his face. "This is all well and good, but you neglect to remember my vulnerability here. You are strong, brother, but forgive me if I fail to sound overly optimistic. You cannot defy the All-Father."

"Then we must work to find a solution," Thor says. "Come. Let us sit together and discuss the matter at length until we have a plan."

Loki sighs. His eyes dart to the windows, as if he fears what lies on the other side of them.

"Uncle Loki," Samantha whispers so that her father can't hear. "I'm still hungry. Will _you_ let me have a cookie for breakfast?"

Distracted from his worries, Loki's eyes train downward, and his mouth pulls into a reluctant smile at the sight of his niece's chin resting on his thigh, blue eyes peering hopefully up at him. "Of course you can, my darling," Loki says. "Your uncle will get you two."

* * *

They sit together at the kitchen table, Thor and Loki across from one another and Samantha standing in a chair, one arm around her uncle's neck and the other occupied with a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie. Loki watches with distaste as crumbs fall onto his chest and lap, but he says nothing to discourage her.

"This plan you've proposed is irrational at best," Loki says. "You solve one problem with dubious outcome and simultaneously invite a host of increasingly worse problems. You must realize the All-Father means to lure you back to Asgard. He will attempt to make use of me, just as he always has."

The words make Thor's throat ache. Though he wants to refute them, he isn't certain he would believe himself. "Do you wish to spend the rest of your life on the run, or do you want to remain with your family?"

Samantha crams the cookie against Loki's lips to encourage him to take a bite. "Yeah, Uncle Loki, don't you want your family?"

With a defeated sigh, Loki's eyes find the ceiling, and he opens his mouth to accept a reluctant bite. His arm protectively surrounds Samantha so that she won't take a tumble. "You truly mean to do this?" he asks, wiping his lips. "You realize there is little chance of events transpiring in the way you hope, yet you cling to hope still, regardless of how many times it has betrayed you."

Thor's chin lifts at the challenge. "Aye. I am sorry, brother. That is simply who I am."

Samantha wipes an errant crumb from Loki's chin and straightens his collar. "Yeah, Uncle Loki, that's who my daddy is."

Loki glares at Thor, his arm tightening around his niece. The message, though unspoken, is all too clear—a warning that Thor had better not fail, else risk his daughter's restored trust in him, not to mention his brother's life.

* * *

"Heimdall," Thor calls out to the sky. "I seek an audience with the All-Father."

His only reply comes in the form of a passing bird's errant call. Thor swallows his nervousness and lowers his gaze. Over in the next yard, he spies his neighbor watching him over the fence—an elderly woman with her curls neatly captured in a pink hairnet. She scowls back at him, the stream of water from her garden hose making a lazy descent to the ground.

While it is common knowledge that an Avenger lives here, not all have welcomed Thor, their opinion of him marred by the occasional supervillain attempting to attack their neighborhood.

"Greetings, Mrs. Peterson," Thor says. "Planting early this year? I'm sure your roses will make a fine showing this summer."

Mrs. Peterson's expression sours, as it always does when met with Thor's unflinching politeness. Her award-winning rose garden has never been quite the same since the Doombot incident the prior spring. She shuts off her garden hose and nearly trips over it in her rush to enter the safety of her house.

Thor drops onto the step of his porch to await his father's reply. Things move slower in Asgard than on Midgard. Mortals had limited time in their possession and raced to fill their day with as much experience as possible—whereas in Asgard, many days could be spent on a solitary task or pondering an idea. It does not surprise Thor that the All-Father hasn't come for Loki sooner. Odin's decisions and judgments are not laid down with haste. If Thor knows his father at all, Odin is testing them both in some way—though _how_ , that is more difficult to guess.

And so it is more than an hour before Thor hears footfalls on the grass. He stands as Odin approaches, caught off guard by his appearance, which was not heralded by the roar of the Bifrost.

If it could be helped, Heimdall would not point the Bifrost toward heavily populated areas. He would drop the All-Father somewhere safer where it would draw less attention. Still, it is daunting to see his father.

"My son," Odin says, his tone even and without inflection of any kind. "I was pleased to receive your summons. I feared you might choose less desirable paths upon which to tread."

"Loki is not here," Thor says, anticipating his father's next question. "He was, but I sent him away before I summoned you. He came to me in goodwill after Jane died and sought to make amends for past grievances." A generous explanation, but Thor clings to it with stubborn resolve. "I would like you to reconsider your judgment upon him."

Odin's good eye narrows, his attention sharpening. "You say he came to you in goodwill. I trust you recall your brother has upon occasion sought to deceive."

The All-Father's penchant for sarcasm has reached new levels of dryness. "I remember," Thor says. "But I also recall centuries of peace with him at my side before his fall. Am I to throw all of that away because he stumbled, albeit most grievously?"

Odin sighs and readjusts his grip on Gungnir. "When you first brought your brother home after the unfortunate incident on Midgard, you and I spoke of the doubt and regret you saw in his face when you forced him to look upon the true devastation he caused. I do believe he is not yet beyond hope, but his temper has festered for centuries. There is a reason I chose the manner of imprisonment I did. If allowed to roam free, Loki would burn a trail of self-destruction to his own death and the death of any other he happens upon. He runs from culpability and hides behind his rage. I forced him to confront these things in hopes that he might correct his behavior. During our discussions together, I feel he began to understand."

Though the manner of imprisonment still angers Thor, he feels his heart lighten with hope at the thought of his father also seeing the good in Loki. "I wish to help him, father. Not aid in his recapture."

There is a long pause. Odin's lips thin while he calculates his response. "Though I am pleased you brought these concerns directly to me rather than acting in defiance of my orders, I am afraid that is not an option. If you remember, your brother's original sentence was life in the dungeons. Though I admit, my intention with that sentence was to shock the smugness out of him, he has not yet served adequate time to pay for his crimes."

"It is one thing to keep Loki in a cell," Thor points out, "and another thing entirely to isolate him. You should see him, father. He is physically well, but it is as if he is broken inside. He appears haunted at times."

Odin gives a hard laugh. "Oh, good. I was afraid I had only minor effect on him. Do not misunderstand me, my son. While I understand the punishment is uncomfortable, particularly to someone of Loki's temperament, it is _meant_ to be uncomfortable. I daresay punishments often are. Lives were ended by his actions with no provocation. Regardless, I never intended to keep your brother in isolation until the end of his days—only until the remaining shreds of his anger burned out. Had I released him earlier, he might have erupted into rage or vengeance. As it stands now, I think he has finally realized his actions have consequences. Tell me, has your brother expressed regret to you?"

"In his own way, yes," Thor says. "Release Loki to my custody, and I swear I will continue to guide him down this path."

"I fear I cannot do that. I have sworn an oath to protect the Nine Realms. Loki remains a threat, and I remain unmoved."

"He is your _son_ ," Thor points out. "For centuries, he served you and sought your approval without hesitation. He says he fell to madness upon discovery of his true heritage. I believe he should still be punished for his crimes, yes, but what then? Is he to forever live without hope of a second chance?"

"Loki _is_ my son," Odin admits. "From the beginning, I intended him to rule at your side as your advisor. The circumstances around his fall from Asgard are regretful for a number of reasons, and I have never rested easy when considering whose path he might have crossed in the void. When you brought him to me after the battle on Midgard, he was still filled with rage and insolence. He was not ready to share with me the truth of what happened. He wanted only to hurt us all as he had been hurt. I have tried my best to help him through that by forcing him to sit still and ponder. And even now, I am not convinced he is ready."

"You cannot put him back in isolation," Thor says. _I will not let you_ , he almost adds but stops himself just in time. The All-Father would not respond well to threats. "Can I not have a turn with him? I could help him further find his way back to reason. I would not hesitate to stand in his way should his crimes resume. I trust my honor is not in question here?"

"Upon recapture, your brother will be arrested," Odin says. "You know well the law and the judgment I have laid down on him. I am still your king, am I not?"

"A king can issue pardons," Thor says.

Odin's lips tug into an ominous ghost of a smile. "Yes. A king could. How unfortunate that you cast aside your inheritance to the crown."

Thor's face burns. Loki had warned him this would happen. "You seek to coerce me into returning to Asgard."

"To your birthright?" Odin laughs as he paces a small circle around the yard. "To your throne? Goodness, I am so very cruel. I still struggle to understand your reasoning for remaining in this realm."

Thor opens his mouth to reply but quickly shuts it again. There is no explanation his father would accept that would not be twisted and reformed into manipulation.

"I ought to order you back to Asgard altogether," Odin continues, gesturing impatiently at his son. "I ought to insist on the immediate adherence to—"

The back door swings open, and the sound of little footsteps on the porch quickly follows. Instantly realizing who it is, Thor rears around and says, "Samantha, go back into the house."

But of course, she doesn't listen. She marches down the porch steps and across the yard in their direction, her stare hardened with determination.

The level of Odin's arm drops as he watches her, and Thor decides from the look on his father's face that he's never before set eyes on his granddaughter. "What a curious name you've chosen for your offspring," Odin says. "I thought perhaps you might consult with the genealogy records of your family. However, that does not seem to be the case."

"She is of Midgard," Thor says. "We named her as such."

Odin's jaw works, evidence of his disapproval, which only makes Thor feel more defensive. Samantha is the representation of the life he has chosen here. The only Aesir thing about her is her father's eyes and courage and the reflection of Frigga's features in her face. The rest of her is all Jane and Midgard, and Thor could not love the evidence of those things any more if he tried.

"Listen," Samantha says, evading her father's grasp and traipsing straight up to Odin. "I don't know who you are, but you leave my uncle alone. He's my friend, and I don't like bullies."

Though Thor inwardly reels, the tension in Odin's jaw relents somewhat. "I admit I do not care for them much myself. As for who I am, my name is Odin All-Father, King of Asgard and Guardian of the Nine Realms."

Samantha lifts one delicate eyebrow, as if asking if she's supposed to be impressed. "Pleased to meet you," she says as she was taught by her mother, though from the sound of it, she's not pleased at all.

"Are you very close to your uncle?" Odin asks. "Is he kind to you?"

Thor tenses, not wanting her daughter to answer that and reveal too much, but she replies before he can stop her. "He makes me laugh and doesn't talk to me like I'm dumb," Samantha says. "He's afraid of you, and I don't like that."

Odin blinks at her several times while formulating his response. Unless Thor is imagining it, he thinks the All-Father might be attempting to decide if he finds his granddaughter amusing or something of a nuisance. It's much the same look Odin reserved for Loki's mischief in their youth—disapproval tamed by the unwelcome but unrelenting pull of affection.

"What a brave young warrior you are," Odin says at last, "facing down a king in your uncle's defense."

Samantha crosses her arms over her chest, her brow set in a severe line. "I don't like bullies," she repeats. "You leave my uncle alone."

Thor's heart warms at the sight of her courage, but fearing his father's reaction to it, he reaches to pull her up into his arms. She hooks her legs around him but does not let the heat of her glare waver for one second.

" _I mean it_ ," she adds for good measure.

"All right, Sam," Thor says, readjusting his grip on her. "That's enough."

Odin's expression has slowly softened throughout her tirade, and Thor wonders if Samantha might have actually driven a small crack into the All-Father's stubborn determination.

"It would appear you have a decision ahead of you, my son," Odin says, his attention returning to Thor. "I trust you fully understand the choices I have laid before you?"

Thor's gaze falls to the ground, his heart heavy with disappointment. Odin hadn't softened as much as he'd hoped. The choice is obedience or punishment. Loki is to be imprisoned, and Thor's only hope of helping his brother is to lay claim to a throne he doesn't want.

"I do," Thor says quietly.

"You have one day to decide, then," Odin says. "If you truly think your brother worth saving, then you yourself must be willing to buy his freedom with your own—a lesson, perhaps, you might soon need to pass along to your daughter."

* * *

After the All-Father departs, Thor sits with his little girl beneath the almond tree his wife planted. It's a struggle to find the right words to say.

"Can't you just tell me what's happening?" Samantha mutters. She frowns down at a leaf captured between her fingers, as if attempting to bespell it as her uncle had previously demonstrated to her. "You and mommy hid that she was sick for a long time, and I didn't understand."

Thor sighs and runs a hand over her head, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Your uncle committed a series of crimes several years ago and was sentenced to life in prison."

Samantha looks up, eyes huge. "Uncle Loki wouldn't do that. He's a good guy like you."

Thor smiles despite the aching in his chest—because she's wrong. "I did not want to tell you that because, like you, I believe there is good in him. I love that you have seen that as well, and I think your trust and belief in him might be what pulls him fully onto our side. I have never quite been enough. I want to help your uncle, but I cannot do that without you. Do you still want to help him, knowing what I've told you?"

Samantha stares for a moment but then nods once. "Is he going to jail?"

"He might. In order for him to be released, I would have to . . . Sam, we might have to leave. I need to know how you feel about that."

"Why would we leave? This is our home."

"Your grandfather wishes me to return to Asgard to claim the throne. If I do that, that means you and I would leave Midgard behind. Your school, friends, home. I have never wanted to take those things from you. In fact, I promised your mother I wouldn't."

As if Thor didn't already feel guilty about the thorough betrayal of his wife, this is now added to it. He hangs his head, suddenly missing Jane so much, he wants to lie down on the ground and weep. She would have known what to say. He could have explained it all—the betrayal, the mindless tangle of his near-violent lust mixing with the purer desire to simply love and protect his brother, and his struggle to regain control over _anything_ —and Jane would have heard him through until the end. Afterward, she likely would have drawn some complicated series of diagrams and explained root causes and inevitable outcomes in a way that made sense to him. Somehow, she would have made it all right in the end, even though he is undeserving of her love.

But Jane isn't here, and Thor cannot talk with her about the mess he's made.

"I miss her so much, Sam," he whispers.

Tears well up in Samantha's eyes, and this time, there's not a hint of manipulation in them. "If you're king, you can protect Uncle Loki?" she asks.

Thor nods, his own eyes directed elsewhere so that she won't feel pressured by the tears in them. "I don't know what to do, baby. Even if your uncle leaves and tries to escape, I fear he would not get far. I am sorry there is not an easier choice before us. We must either say goodbye to him or say goodbye to this place. I promise I will not attempt to make you choose one way or the other."

Letting the dried leaf fall from her fingers, Samantha gets to her feet and wraps her arms around her father's neck. As he hugs her back fiercely, she tells him, "Mommy used to say things always seem worse before you get started, and that's because nothing's had a chance to work itself out yet. Help Uncle Loki first, and then maybe other stuff will get fixed, too."

Thor smiles and rubs his palm in little circles on her back. "And what about you? Sam, I love my brother, but if need be, he can take care of himself. Your well being and happiness come first. I mean that, and I've little doubt your uncle would be the first to agree."

"I don't want to leave," Samantha admits, "but sometimes being brave means doing things you don't want to. Mommy will understand. She's the one who taught me that when she got sick."

Thor's arms tighten around her. He might not have his Jane anymore, but he still has a piece of her right here. "I love you, little warrior. Seldom have I seen such valor and fortitude, even in the strongest of soldiers."

Samantha pulls back to look at him. "I don't know what those words mean but okay. I love you, too."

"Shall we enact phase one of our strike, then?" Thor asks. "We must convince your uncle to do something he very much does not want to do. Our battle has just begun."

"I'll do the crying," Samantha says with a decisive nod. "You do the talking."

* * *

To be concluded.

A/N – One more chapter to go. Hope you enjoyed this one. If you have a moment, I'd love to know what you thought. See you soon. :)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – So sorry about the delay in posting the final chapter. Life happened and then kept happening and then ran me over with its happenings. But yay—this story is now complete! Hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for sticking with it until the end. Also, a big _thank you_ to [portraitoftheoddity](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) for being a huge source of encouragement as I battled with (and whined with feverish abandon about) the ending of this story.

* * *

Chapter 10

Loki only emerges from his hiding place once he's confident the All-Father is well and truly gone. By that time, the late winter sun is angling toward the western horizon, and Thor and Samantha have solidified a plan.

When Loki appears in the front doorway without so much as a knock or _hello_ , he eyes them both in turn as if he isn't quite certain what to expect. His face is paler than in recent days—the shadows beneath his eyes and cheekbones more pronounced, his lips so thin that they're little more than a censorious line. His physical appearance unsettles Thor, who has grown used to a tamer version of his brother. This Loki appears ready to run and fight his way out should anything get in his way.

Rising from his position on the couch, Thor watches with simmering wariness as Samantha goes to her uncle. It's a risk to allow his daughter to play such an integral part in this scheme, but Thor has witnessed for himself the protective gentleness she incites in Loki. Without her present, this exchange could easily ignite into something far less amiable.

Once she's reached Loki's side, Samantha stretches out her arms, a plea for him to pick her up. Her blue eyes are full of innocence and trust—an impressively crafted manipulation for one so young. But behind the act, she's obviously delighted her uncle has returned, and it's a relief to Thor to realize he's no longer alone in his love for Loki. They could truly be a family one day, but that will require all three of them making an effort.

Though Samantha's desired position is in her uncle's arms, Loki only places a gentle hand on the top of her head and looks to Thor, as if he still isn't quite certain he has full permission to touch his niece. As Samantha leans against his leg, Loki parts his lips like he wants to say something—but then seems to rethink it.

It's not until Thor exhales slowly that he realizes he was holding his breath. Part of him expected Loki to appear only as an illusion—to hide from Thor now that he feels his safety is compromised—but Samantha wouldn't be able to touch Loki if he weren't real.

"Father is not here," Thor says. "He has granted us enough time to talk without fear of opposition from Asgard. Come and sit with us. We've been waiting for you."

They settle down in the living room amid the patches of late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. As soon as Loki sits in the armchair closest to the backdoor, Samantha clambers onto the chair right after him. But instead of claiming a place on his lap, she stands on the cushions with her arms thrown around his neck. "Got you," she announces with a squeeze.

Loki is left with no other choice but to hold her back in order to keep her upright and balanced. "Careful," he says. "Have a seat like the good little girl I assume is somewhere inside of you, even though I have yet to make her acquaintance."

"Daddy said to hang on to you tight no matter what," Samantha says. "Unless you try to blow something up."

Loki sighs and glances at Thor with an exhausted expression. "I take it you have news of a questionable nature to confer upon me, seeing as you feel the need to secure me in place with a child."

Thor is careful to maintain a respectful distance between them, for it feels like his brother would not react well to any further attempts to crowd him. Instead, he sits on the edge of the couch and leans forward with his hands clasped in front of him. "More effective than pinning you to the ground with Mjolnir, I think," Thor teases with the slightest hint of a smile.

Loki's countenance heats into a glare but melts into something softer a scant moment later. Samantha's warmth and closeness seem to work on him. His eyelids drift downward as if lulled briefly to sleep, and he hugs her a bit closer, seeming to cherish the moment like he doesn't plan on experiencing it again for some time. "All right, then," he says. "I am listening. Let's have the unpleasant news."

"I plan to claim the throne," Thor says.

Loki barks a quiet laugh. "Ah. The All-Father's manipulations are still as predictable as they are opportune. I see we have come full circle. Tell me, brother—what did the All-Father offer in exchange for the crown prince's triumphant return to Asgard?"

The level of Thor's gaze falls from Loki's face. "He refuses to stop tracking you, and you know he has the means to find you, whether you choose to run or not. The places you would have to hide to evade Heimdall's gaze for such a long period of time—Loki, you do not belong there. I want you to consider giving yourself over to Asgard. To come forward in such a way would lessen the severity of your sentence and lend promise to the hope of your reconciliation with the family. It would make a statement. Father said—"

"Said or implied?" Loki says, cutting him off.

Thor blinks several times before he can articulate a response. "He said he felt you were not beyond hope. That you are still his son and that he believes you've finally registered the regret of your past crimes. I believe those things as well."

Anger flares in Loki's expression, but again, it burns out quickly into something far wearier. His throat works, and as he looks away, Samantha's arms tighten around his neck, her cheek resting against his hair as she hugs him.

"He also said a king can issue pardons," Thor adds softly.

"The All-Father will not pardon me," Loki mutters. "I escaped from under his watch. For him, my immediate recapture is now a matter of pride."

"Perhaps," Thor says. "But did you not hear me when I said I meant to claim the throne? You are correct that he means to manipulate me back to Asgard, but perhaps sacrificing one battle will win us the war."

Loki's mouth twists into a furious mimicry of a smirk. "Is that what I deserve, Thor? A pardon? Surely your noble sensitivities cannot extend so far as to believe that."

How strange to think that out of everyone, it would be most difficult to convince Loki he deserves compassion. "They extend much further than you think," Thor says. "There is nothing I wouldn't give to see you offered a second chance, but remaining on the run for the rest of your days is not what I have in mind. Brother, you know well that what we have built here is temporary. Everything that has . . . happened since your return, it will not last if we do not fortify it. That is what I am offering you."

Loki's expression sharpens—dangerously serrated edges meant to ward off anything that gets too close—but there's something hopelessly vulnerable behind that look. "And what exactly is it you seek to fortify, _brother_?"

Despite the bitterness infused into every syllable, Thor wonders if Loki might be afraid of losing this strange relationship they've developed—if there might be a deeper foundation of love and unspoken desire than Loki has ever admitted.

Thor leans forward and stretches out his hand. Only the tips of his fingers graze Loki's knee. "Our family," Thor replies, touching his brother with the utmost care and caution. "However that might manifest itself."

Though Thor thinks a tear might have slipped down Loki's cheek, he looks away before Thor is certain. "And what of your wife's wishes?" Loki says with no small amount of cynicism. "She desired for your daughter to grow up on Midgard for very good reason. That place will rob her of her innocence and instill doubt in her. There is nothing in all the Nine Realms worth that."

"I remember Jane's wishes well," Thor says, "and I intend to honor them as much as I am able. I need you there to help me keep Sam well balanced. I can think of no other better equipped to give her a greater perspective than what Asgard can offer, but you will have to make the choice to be part of this family and invest in her future. You know I cannot avoid the throne forever. Jane knew it as well, despite her wishes for our daughter. Help me protect Samantha from what could hurt her. It will require us both, for you know all too well I failed to protect you from it."

"Yes, well—perhaps that was because you were unaware you had to," Loki replies with an ironic ghost of a smile.

Thor smiles as well—hesitantly, struck by the fact that Loki has actually defended him for once. Despite their occasional ability to cooperate, there has not been that level of loyalty between them in more than a decade. It's not much—only the quietest whisper of a friendship long dead—but it is a start.

Leaning forward, Thor further encloses his brother's knee with his hand. "I am aware of it now. Perhaps we are both in need of a second chance to right past wrongs."

Loki spares him only the briefest of glances before looking elsewhere again, and Thor realizes his brother is most definitely crying.

"You are so idealistic," Loki says with an incredulous chuckle that makes Thor wince. His little brother sounds so tired and appears completely lost and devoid of faith. "You do your daughter a disservice, making her believe this nonsense might result in anything other than misfortune."

"Circumstance has robbed you of all hope," Thor says. "In such times, you must allow others to guide you back to it when you are not able to find it on your own. You came here to help us after Jane's death. Let us help you find your hope again in turn."

Though Samantha has very little idea what much of this discussion is about, she's following along with it enough to offer some input. "Don't give up and leave, uncle Loki," she says. "Just because you did a bad thing doesn't mean we don't still love you. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Loki flinches, and Thor wonders if it's because he has registered that Samantha now knows about his crimes or because she said she loves him. "Even the monsters in your storybooks?" Loki asks, the words hushed and gentle, his fingertips smoothing the length of her hair down her back. "What about them?"

Samantha frowns as if she senses her uncle's words hold meaning she's not yet old enough to completely decipher. "I don't believe in monsters," she says. "Even the bad guys my daddy fights are still people. They would get second chances, too, if they wanted them. They just don't stop doing bad stuff long enough for anyone to tell them that."

At her words, all three of them fall silent. As Thor takes in the adorable sight of his daughter hugging his brother and Loki trying his hardest to pretend he's not completely enamored with her, Thor can't help but feel the stirring of hope that it might be enough.

And yet, even now, Loki still hasn't agreed to stay.

* * *

"What are you afraid of?" Thor asks, hours later when the house is dark and they find themselves speaking in whispers as if the shadows might overhear. His fingers work in Loki's hair in a repetitive motion, easing out the tangles and smoothing the strands into perfect order. "Explain it to me in full so that we might face it head on together."

They sit on the floor with the couch at their back, neither of them fully aware why they've passed up a comfortable seat for a less desirable position. The kitchen is a disaster zone, the result of a quick dinner that no one had the desire to clean up afterward. On the television is a muted children's film, one Samantha had picked out especially for Loki called _Monsters, Inc_. She's asleep now, snuggled in her uncle's lap with her thumb in her mouth.

Loki gazes down at her, affection clearly printed on every inch of his face as he very carefully extracts her thumb from her mouth for the fifth time in an hour. "Who said I'm afraid?" Loki whispers back. "You have no idea what real fear is. This is nothing."

Thor's fingers still in Loki's hair for a moment before picking their movement back up again. "Fair enough. Then what is making you pause? I am offering you your freedom back."

"There is no such thing," Loki says as he watches Samantha put her thumb back into her mouth, her plump little cheek smushed against his chest. "We are all slaves to something at any given moment. Let us take you, for example. A slave to your passions and now to your birthright. You do not desire to return to Asgard anymore than I do, yet you feel bound to that fate."

"I would do it for you," Thor says, easing his thumb along the length of Loki's cheek and down the tense line of his jaw. "Do you have any idea how much I love you? Responsibility and love for another are not terrible burdens to bear."

Loki's eyes laugh at Thor. "If you say so."

"You told me before that people lie," Thor says. "That words hold no meaning until actions make them true. I am willing to take action and do this for you, Loki, but that is only half the battle. You must meet me halfway, or it will all be for nothing. You are just as capable of saving yourself here. Will you do it for yourself, if for no one else?"

When Loki laughs at the ridiculousness of the question, the sound is literally painful. "No."

Thor's heart aches at the response. "What about for Sam? She stood up for you against the All-Father, you know. Marched right up to him, called him a bully, and now lives to tell the tale. You should have seen it."

Loki smiles as he pulls Samantha's thumb out of her mouth yet again, though she has it back in place almost immediately. "I have no idea how you managed to produce something this perfect," Loki says.

"That is not an answer," Thor points out, trying to keep his tone patient. "Do not tell me she is better off without you in her life, for I will only detail the many reasons that is a falsehood. Do it for her sake."

Loki is quiet for a very long time, watching his niece sleep, his eyelids sinking down every time his brother's fingers touch his skin or hair. The physical affection seems to work on him, even as he stubbornly resists Thor's words.

"Are those the only two reasons I should do what you ask of me?" Loki says at last. "For myself and for her?" He looks at Thor for the first time in hours, his eyes reflecting the moving light from the television screen. They seem to dance with energy in spite of the fact that he's sitting perfectly still.

Something disquieted stirs in Thor's mind. There's a dangerous edge to the question, as if the response might again set Loki off. It's like he's asking for something his heart desperately wants yet his mind vehemently does not want to hear.

Thor's hand moves to cup his brother's face. There _is_ another reason, though he's filled with doubt over whether it would be enough. "Do it for me," Thor says. "You said before that you came here and stayed for me. Was that true? Since your return, we have torn at each other just as much as we have clung to one another. I love you, brother, and care not if you shy away from saying those words in return. I see plainly now that you love me as well, only that hurt and anger have twisted that into something else. We can fix this, Loki, even though it seems so hopelessly broken. And if I fail, we will find defeat together. We will fall together. You will not be alone again. I swear it."

Loki seems to tremble as he stares at his brother. Hope and fear dance across his face, but even though it's obvious Thor's words are having a significant effect, there is still something missing.

"And if we succeed," Thor continues, his thumb moving across his brother's lower lip in a very purposeful way, "we can be together, if that is your desire. Norns help me, Loki, it is certainly mine."

He leans in, head tilting to one side, and nuzzles his brother's face. Their lips touch, gently rubbing together until both of them are practically aching with want, but neither brother moves to change the moment into a kiss. Gone is the searing lust and anger that has clouded Thor's mind for so many days. It has burned out, and now that the smoke has cleared, what remains is quiet, tender, and absolutely unmovable.

Breath fills Loki's chest in one long intake, and Thor knows he's finally hit the mark. However, Loki has never taken kindly to another person seeing past his vulnerabilities, even when what they offer is exactly what he's been longing for.

When Loki pulls his face away, his eyes are again shining with tears that seem to anger him even further. "Does this _excite_ you, brother?" he hisses. "Are you filled with pride, knowing you've broken your enemy at last?"

"You are not broken, Loki," Thor says gently, his fingers still caressing his brother's cheek in an attempt to ease away the sudden tension there. "Nor are you my enemy. The only thing I want for you is peace and to know you are loved. You will find those things here with your family if you let yourself."

Loki makes a sound that is equal parts disgust, exasperation, and defeat. He takes a few steadying breaths, his arms tightening protectively around his niece, before he squeezes his eyes shut and says, "Call out to the All-Father. Let's get this over with."

Thor frowns in spite of the swell of hope he feels. "But we still have time here. Father gave us until tomorrow, and Sam would want to—"

Loki cuts him off with an abrupt shake of his head. "I do not want her to see this. It is best if I go before she wakes—or before I change my mind."

"But I will not be able to go with you. You know I cannot leave her here."

"I will face him on my own." Loki sits up and wipes his face hastily with the heel of his hand. "Allow me to maintain some semblance of dignity. Here. I will do it myself."

"Loki . . . ."

But regardless of Thor's softly spoken protests, Loki pushes his brother's hand aside and struggles to his feet. He takes care not to wake Samantha as he lays her down on the couch with a throw pillow tucked beneath her head. After smoothing her hair away from her face, Loki drops a kiss on her forehead. Thor reaches out to him, instinct telling him to protect his brother from what he meant to do yet knowing he shouldn't. Loki ignores him and marches toward the front door without looking back.

Outside, the night air bites with unexpected coldness. Thor trails after his brother to the middle of the street, where Loki looks up at the sky almost accusingly. "Heimdall," he bites out, "be so kind as to convey my whereabouts to the All-Father. I do believe he might be in search of me."

The words echo down the empty street, and then silence falls again, broken only by the unsteady cadence of their breathing. As Loki's gaze drops to Thor, it seems to dawn on him exactly what he's done. Fear overtakes Loki's confidence and leaves him practically shaking.

"You did not have to do that," Thor says as he approaches his brother. "Not so soon."

"What difference does it make?" Loki snaps. "It will all end up much the same. Stay there. Do not touch me." But with every unflinching step Thor takes, the fight leaks out of Loki's posture a little bit more. "We are exposed out here," he says, his tone now pleading instead of hostile. "He will _see_."

Without caring who might be watching, Thor drags his little brother into an embrace, tucking Loki's head under his chin, covering the back of his neck with his palm. As Loki trembles against him, Thor wonders if it's really possible to knit a kind of family together from the shattered remains of so many others.

"For what it's worth," Thor says, "I am proud of you."

"I _hate_ you," Loki whispers, so soft that the words are barely audible. His breaths start to come hard, and he wrenches away from Thor's arms. Loki only holds his brother's gaze for a moment, and then he's looking at the sky again, wearing an expression of wide-eyed panic. He's obviously about to run, and Thor does not want to think about the consequences of that.

"Loki," Thor says, careful to keep his voice gentle. "Brother."

Loki's eyes snap to Thor's face. "I am not your br—"

" _No_ ," Thor says, raising his voice for the first time.

He reestablishes his grip on his brother, placing his hand again on Loki's face, his fingers so long that they stretch from his cheek down to his neck. Without hesitation, Thor kisses his brother once on the mouth, lips warm and lingering, sweet rather than demanding. Loki goes tense but then relaxes into it—and even when the kiss ends and they part, he remains that way, keeping his eyes closed as if terrified to open them.

"You know exactly what you are," Thor says, giving his brother a little shake as if to wake him up. " _Who_ you are. I do not _ever_ want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. Do you understand me?"

Loki flinches at the fierceness of his brother's words. When he opens his eyes, tears spill out of them. "You fool. The All-Father—"

"Will not live forever," Thor says. "I do not care if he sees, nor if he knows. All I care about is keeping my family intact, and you are part of that. You and I can do this together, Loki."

It's not until the words are out of his mouth that Thor realizes they are the same he spoke to his brother when trying to deter his attack on New York City. And there is the same wavering look on Loki's face—a desperate desire to hope plagued with heartbreaking doubt.

There is a sound like lightning splitting the earth in two, followed by a searing flash of light that burns shapes into their retinas. The Bifrost's stamp hits the street not twenty paces from where Thor and Loki stand, and in the middle of it is the All-Father, Gungnir in hand with two fully armed Einherjar on either side.

The sight fills Thor with both relief and trepidation. He hadn't anticipated Asgard's response time to be so short, but they were apparently prepared to move with haste should the need present itself.

"Steady," Thor says, dropping his hand to squeeze Loki's shoulder. "You can do this."

"Thor," Odin calls out. His voice holds a quiet kind of wariness. "Step away from your brother."

Gritting his teeth, Thor turns his head to call back, "I want it known that Loki is here of his own volition. I have neither captured nor coerced him. He called out to you himself. I ask that you bear that in mind."

"Oh, give it a rest," Loki mutters, pushing Thor's hand away. He straightens his posture, steeling himself before marching a direct path to the All-Father, grim-faced but courageous. As Thor follows closely behind him, it's all he can do to keep his arms relaxed at his sides. He glares a silent warning at the Einherjar, who stand ready with their weapons.

The All-Father watches their approach without expression, though his chin is slightly hoisted as if what he's witnessing has not left him unmoved. Odin gestures to the guards, who push forward to fasten warded bindings to Loki's wrists meant to dampen his powers and prevent any attempt to escape. Loki glares at the All-Father, protesting with only his eyes but wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut.

After a long, meticulous study of his youngest son, Odin looks to Thor. "And you, my son—have you come to a decision regarding whether your self-imposed exile will come to an end?"

Loki's glare refocuses on Thor, as if wanting to know the answer for that himself. It's far too easy to interpret the look as an accusation. He thinks Thor means to betray him, now that Loki is captured and helpless. As much hope as this moment affords Thor, it's becoming more and more apparent that the brothers still have a long ways to go in repairing the trust they once shared.

"I have," Thor says. "My daughter and I will journey to the city. Prepare for our arrival at dawn."

Odin's smile tightens. "I am pleased to hear it. And will this be a brief visit or shall I have more permanent accommodations prepared for you at the palace? Understanding, of course, that your brother will most certainly find himself faced with the latter option."

Loki bows his head under the sobering weight of that statement, looking very much like he's taken a blow to the stomach. It's all Thor can do not to clench his hands into fists. Did Loki really think his brother meant to abandon him now?

"I mean to accept my birthright," Thor says, "assuming you are still prepared to offer it."

Odin stares at his eldest, something impossible to decipher flashing behind the brilliant blue of his good eye. "We will discuss the details in full upon your arrival to the palace," he says after a long pause. "However, I feel the return of the crowned prince to his realm is reason enough to delay all criminal trials for the present. I will see you at dawn."

* * *

After the All-Father's departure, Thor is left staring at the Bifrost's imprint on the street long after they've gone. He wants to believe he's made the right decision yet can't help but fear the future is not as bright as he might hope. He worries this will end in yet another failure on his part to protect a loved one from inevitable destruction.

When he finally returns to the house, it feels strangely unbalanced. There is an airy, empty quality to it as if no one save for a handful of ghosts inhabit the place. Dust motes float in the air but do not descend. The halls seem to resonate with laughter and memories. The moment Thor steps foot past the threshold and enters the foyer, he instantly feels as if he no longer belongs there. Without Jane or Loki, it simply isn't home anymore.

Still, there is one little life radiating her warmth throughout the place. Thor carries a blanket over to where Samantha slumbers and covers her up with it, taking his time to tuck in the edges. He lets her sleep but does not sit down with her to rest through the night. His brother is gone, and since Thor could not go with him, he feels the need to do _something_. He has never been the type to remain stationary when his thoughts are troubled.

He packs them both a bag, focusing his efforts on gathering toys and books meant to make Samantha feel at ease while realms away from the only home she's ever known. He packs very little in the way of clothing, for their Midgardian wardrobe will not fit in amongst the Aesir. Once he's finished with that, he cleans the kitchen and straightens up the house. Then there's nothing left to do but fret.

He takes his pacing outside into the backyard so as not to disturb his daughter's last hours of peace in her childhood home. As he squints in the moonlight, he thinks he sees the slightest hint of leaf buds forming on Jane's almond tree—a promise of spring in this endless winter.

"Will you despise me forever if I do this?" Thor whispers to Jane, though he knows she can't hear or answer. "Have I completely broken your heart yet?"

The wooden wind chimes stir in the breeze, a hollow yet familiar melody, and Thor shivers. His thoughts drift, following the shadows of the branches as they sway lazily across the ground.

What was it that Samantha had said to him earlier, after the All-Father's visit when she'd sought to comfort her father? Something about situations seeming more difficult before the start of a journey. Those were Jane's words, and the memory of them brightens Thor's spirits the way her smile used to.

He isn't certain how yet, but he refuses to believe he must hurt his daughter's future in order to secure his brother's. Somehow, this will work itself out. There is nothing left to do except keep pushing forward until the way reveals itself.

* * *

The next morning, after they've finished a hasty breakfast, Thor finds Samantha in her bedroom with her little brow creased in concentration. She carefully pokes through the bag her father packed for her, checking and rechecking its contents. She has added a stuffed rabbit and her rollerskates to the rest of her belongings, items she apparently views as essential.

"What exactly is that you've chosen to wear?" Thor asks, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest.

Samantha glances down at the outfit she has picked out for their journey, which consists of her black ballet leotard, pink tights, gray wool coat with its double row of buttons, and clunky red rainboots with ladybugs on them. "I'm prepared to face down the elements," she replies, likely having no idea what the words mean. It's something Jane used to say when packing to go on one of her many research expeditions.

Glancing around her bedroom, Samantha takes a moment to sigh in a way that no six-year-old should ever sigh. "I can't find my tiara. Uncle Loki told me I'm the lost princess of Asgard. How will people recognize me and know I'm not lost?"

A soft smile touches Thor's face. "They will know as soon as they set eyes on you. I certainly did. No one could mistake you for anything other than royalty."

Samantha pouts, looking very close to tears with her dimpled chin and enormous eyes. Though she's trying to be brave, it's obvious now that she's sad about leaving. "I want my tiara. Mommy bought it for me."

"Then let us take our time to find it before we leave," Thor says, "so that you might take a piece of her with you."

* * *

With two bags slung over his shoulder, both of them containing more of Samantha's personal items than his own, Thor takes his daughter's hand and leads her out into the middle of the street. The hour is still quite early, the horizon barely warmed with the approach of morning, but Thor spots their neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, glaring at them suspiciously from behind her curtains.

After offering their neighbor a friendly wave that does little to assuage her opinion of him, Thor asks his daughter, "Do you need to use the restroom before we leave?"

Samantha adjusts her tiara and smooths down the buttons of her coat. "No, daddy. I'm ready."

Thor narrows his eyes, looking at her hard. "Are you certain? I think you should try."

"Uncle Loki is waiting for me. I don't have to go. I _promise_ promise."

"Sam, listen to me. Traveling by the Bifrost can be frightening if you've never experienced it before. You feel as if you are no longer in control of yourself, but it is only temporary. It will end quickly once you give in to its power."

She blinks up at him. "So like when mommy used to drive me to school?"

He shakes his head. "Not quite that frightening—but close. Will you be brave for me?" He holds out his hands, and after giving her father a decisive nod, Samantha reaches out to allow him to pick her up. Once his daughter is secured in his arms, Thor turns his attention back to the sky and calls out for Heimdall to open the Bifrost.

"Daddy, I changed my mind," Samantha whispers with sudden urgency. "I think I do have to pee."

Then the Bifrost has them, and Midgard falls away.

* * *

It's been years since Thor has traveled this way, but he has not forgotten what the pull of the Bifrost feels like. A vibrant rainbow of colors dances around them—dizzying, maddening if stared upon too long—and the familiarity incites a feeling of nostalgia in Thor that he did not anticipate. It suddenly hits him that he's going home.

He does not allow himself to indulge in the moment, however, for he has his daughter to worry about. Samantha's grip on his neck is evidence of her trepidation, but she doesn't cry out. It's impossible to speak until they arrive, but Thor holds onto her and presses his mouth against her hair to let her know that she's safe.

When they arrive at the Bifrost Observatory, Samantha's breath rushes out in a gust, and then she's trembling. Her palms find Thor's chest, and she pushes away from him to look around. Her face is pale with vibrant points of red staining her cheeks. The golden gears of the Bifrost are reflected in her eyes.

"Wow," she whispers.

"There's my brave girl," Thor says as he sets her down on the ground.

She presses her back against his leg but surprisingly, doesn't attempt to hide behind him. Her regard is aimed upward, and she reaches back to tug at her father's shirt. Pointing, she says, "Daddy, is that God?"

"Welcome home, my prince," Heimdall says. His expression is as composed as it ever was, but his eyes twinkle with amusement as he gazes upon Samantha. "And you, little one."

Faced with the watchman's gaze, Thor resists the urge to feel any kind of shame over what his old friend might have witnessed from him on Midgard. "This is Heimdall," he explains to his daughter. "He is Asgard's watchman, and if I know him as well as I think I do, he has watched over and guarded you since you were born."

Heimdall inclines his head to Samantha. "The stars smiled upon your birth, just as they did upon your father's."

While Samantha beams with pleasure, Thor's eyes focus past Heimdall, where Sif stands near the mouth of the Observatory leading out onto the Rainbow Bridge. Daylight shines on her back, but her face is lit up with a smile that even the perfection of the Asgardian sky cannot rival.

"And this is the Lady Sif, one of my dearest friends," Thor tells Samantha. "You likely don't remember her, but you've met before when you were younger. She has come to Midgard before, the last time when you were scarcely able to walk."

"And it is high time you paid us a visit in kind," Sif teases. "Come. Your father sent me in anticipation of your arrival. He is expecting you at the palace."

"Are you a princess?" Samantha asks, obviously taken with Sif's impressive height and poise, not to mention her armor and weapons.

"Even better," Sif says with her eyebrows lifted. "I am a warrior."

As Sif turns to lead the way out of the Observatory, Samantha readjusts her plastic tiara and hurries after her new hero.

* * *

Sif has brought with her a pair of horses to hasten their return to the city. Standing on the Rainbow Bridge, Thor picks up his daughter and sets her down upon one of the saddles. But even though there are few things Samantha loves more than horses, she cannot seem to tear her attention away from the golden city in the distance.

"Hold on to the reigns and do not squeeze with your legs," Thor says. "The way I taught you."

Samantha doesn't appear to have heard him, but Thor hardly minds. He can't help but feel pride upon seeing her reaction to Asgard. He remembers gazing upon the realm in his youth—how he'd felt so small in comparison at first but had grown to know and love every building and street. This place was in his blood—but then again, Midgard had also found its way into his heart. Between the two of them, he felt ripped in half.

"Where did they take him?" Thor asks under his breath so that his daughter won't hear.

As Sif readies her own horse, she gives him a sideways glance. "You know very well there is only one place in Asgard where he is welcome."

The dungeons, then. At least Sif had tailored her response in such a way that wouldn't upset Samantha should she overhear. Thor tries his best to keep any evidence of discomfort hidden from his face but isn't very successful. He wonders if his father would have brought Loki to one of the lower security cells or if his brother has again found himself in isolation.

"Only a few know Loki is here," Sif says as she mounts her horse. "Thor, I swear to you, we did not know your brother was in Asgard before. I would have told you."

"I know," Thor says. He climbs atop his own horse, seating himself upon the saddle just behind his daughter. "I already knew that to be the case without giving it a second thought."

When Sif smiles, there's something sad about it. "Is it true you finally mean to lay claim to the throne?"

"If that is what is required of me," Thor says.

With a shake of her head, Sif urges her horse forward, toward the city. "Your brother does not deserve you," she calls over her shoulder, "and yet I am grateful to him still, if his return to Asgard means yours is secured as well."

It takes some time for them to reach the palace, for there is no shortage of familiar faces come to greet the crowned prince and cheer his return home. Even when they find themselves alone, Samantha fills every moment with a near constant stream of questions and observations. Her face very much resembles Jane's upon her first visit to the realm—full of wonder and very little fear.

Thor answers each question as patiently and thoroughly as he can, but once they lead the horses into the stables adjacent to the palace walls, his mood grows quieter and less focused on their conversation. His thoughts are filled with the image of his brother down in the dungeons, frightened and wondering if Thor would actually come for him this time.

"Perhaps your daughter could accompany me while you attend to matters with your father," Sif says, noting the sober shift in Thor's expression. "A visit to the tailors first, I think, for a change of clothes, and then perhaps a tour of the training grounds."

Upon hearing this suggestion, Samantha can barely contain her excitement. She bounces on the saddle until Thor dismounts with her in tow, wary of frightening the horse. The moment he sets Samantha down on the ground, she's in motion, running over to Sif as she guides her horse to a young stable boy.

The last thing Thor wants to do is leave his daughter alone in a place she's unfamiliar with, but he sees the wisdom in it and trusts Sif to keep her safe and occupied. With a sigh, Thor looks up at the palace beyond the stable walls and knows the time has come to again face his father.

* * *

The air in the palace seems stifled somehow. The moment Thor passes beyond the ornate threshold, he notices the golden hue of the place holds an unexpected tarnish. The absence of the royal family—save for the All-Father himself—has seemingly taken a toll.

The voices of those Thor passes in the corridors are hushed yet hopeful. Though he nods respectfully to those he encounters, he senses the questions in their eyes and hears the whispering crescendo into murmurs of suspicion in his wake. The citizens of Asgard want to know the conditions and terms of Thor's return and what it might mean for their future prosperity. In truth, so does Thor.

Though his feet grow impossibly heavier with each step he takes, Thor soon finds himself standing outside of the enormous oak door of his father's study. A guard slips inside to announce the arrival of the prince, and it's not long before Thor is granted admittance into the great room.

Inside, the air is cold and drafty despite the well-tended fire crackling in the hearth. The light from the windows and candles has difficulty eradicating the shadows, and the chamber instead holds an oppressive gloom. Seated at his desk, Odin seems frail and stretched far too thin as he inspects what appears to be some kind of legal document. The parchment trembles ever so slightly in his withered hands.

Thor is made to wait in silence while the All-Father reads the document in full and then scribbles his signature at the bottom. Without looking up, Odin blows on the ink in an effort to dry it and passes the parchment to a lone attendant, who stands behind him.

"Well, then," Odin says, his voice clipped and strong despite his appearance. "I admit, I was not confident you would come here today, though the last few hours have been full of surprises. Sit down, Thor." He waves at the attendant, dismissing the man so that he might speak with his eldest son alone.

Thor doesn't move, nor does he speak until the door is shut and their privacy secured. "Where is Loki?"

Odin affixes his gaze to Thor without raising the level of his head. "I said, sit down."

With a sigh, Thor does as his king commands and takes a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

"I realize you're concerned with the fair treatment of your brother," Odin says. "Allow me to assure you he has received far better than what his previous actions deserve—admittedly, as a direct result of him offering himself up freely to recapture. However did you manage to convince him to do such a thing?"

Thor presses his lips together and wonders if Heimdall or his father had witnessed any of the more intimate moments between the brothers—particularly right before Loki was taken when they were out in the open. "He wants to stop," Thor says. "He simply needs someone to remind him that he still has a family that cares enough to stand in the way of the wrong path."

Odin leans back in his chair, his fingers coming together to tap a thoughtful rhythm. "He sat here with me for much of the night, and we discussed a variety of different things, _you_ among them."

The statement hangs in the air in an odd kind of way, and Thor lifts his chin a degree, realizing his father did indeed suspect something of the newer aspects of Thor's relationship with his brother.

"Granted, he did not offer me much in the way of details on the matter," Odin continues, "though I have my own ways of knowing."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Thor says, "Father . . . ."

"Stop," Odin says. "If there is one conversation I do not wish to have with you, this is the one. I am an old man, Thor, and certain things have a way of losing importance when one is faced with their own mortality. I am not long for this realm and in what little time I have left, I seek to reconcile with my sons and establish you in a position where you might rule with strength in my stead. Ever have I intended your brother to be at your side when I am gone, and my desire for that has not changed. His punishment for past crimes has therefore been quite harsh, though I think not harmful, in an effort to hasten the return of his sound reasoning. Loki is . . . well, he is not technically your blood kin."

"Perhaps not," Thor says, "but he is my brother."

With a shake of his head, Odin dismisses Thor's nuance of speech as if it couldn't possibly matter when compared to other things at hand. The very idea seems to exhaust him, like pushing the subject further might trigger illness or even his final sleep. "What concerns me more is that the nature of your relationship with him has influenced this hasty desire of yours to set him free. He is not ready, Thor. Loki is full of anger and fear still, and if you are not careful in your dealings with him, his temper will boil over and seek to consume you. Do not let your heart rule over your head in this matter."

Thor's stare intensifies. "Father, I hold you and your wisdom in the highest regard, but that is where you and I will never agree."

"You still mean to offer him pardon, then, knowing how he has wronged and betrayed you in the past?"

"That depends on if you still intend to offer me the throne." Though, looking at the state of his father's physical condition, Thor realizes Odin does not have much of a choice in the matter.

The All-Father grows quiet, and he stares back at the intensity of his son's gaze until his own falls to the surface of his desk in contemplation. "He did not think you would come here, you know. Even now, he doubts you."

"Yet another reason you should allow me to go to him," Thor says. "Where is he?"

"Precisely where you fear him to be, but pause for a moment and consider why I placed him there."

Thor's jaw tenses as he realizes his father has yet again put Loki in isolation. He takes in a steadying breath through his nose before he says, "As your idea of punishment, no doubt."

"No, Thor," Odin says. "He did not think you would come for him. If you truly mean to help your brother find his way back to reason, then start by reestablishing the trust between the two of you. This foolish plan of yours will not work without it, and it would appear I have gifted you with the perfect opportunity to lay a solid foundation."

* * *

Unlike Thor's journey to his father's study, his trek to the dungeons cannot pass quickly enough. He rushes down endless flights of stairs to the darker places beneath the palace, worry pushing his pace ever faster.

He dismisses any guard who attempts to follow him, using sternly worded commands that are just shy of a threat, but thankfully, none attempt to prevent him from delving deeper into the levels containing the higher security cells. Odin has seemingly granted his eldest son permission to do so, and though Thor is angry with his father, he can't help but feel a small rush of gratefulness. Without the All-Father's blessing, as reluctantly granted and filled with manipulation as it is, this would no doubt turn into a fight. That is the last thing Thor wants. The entire reason for choosing this path to begin with was to avoid such things.

The lower he descends into the dungeons, the quieter it becomes. Even Thor's footfalls seem strangely muffled. Soon, he is at the very bottom, so deep that his ears start to ring from the pressure. Here, the stone walls are unimaginably thick, enough to invoke images of the backbreaking labor required to construct this place. No metal fire pits line the corridors, unlike the upper floors of the dungeons. Only a few torches light Thor's path and reveal the lonely row of isolation chambers beyond.

Magic hums in the air—more of a gut-wrenching feeling than a sound. Because of the nature of the cells, which prevents all movement or escape, there is little in the way of further security needed. Moreover, Odin often sought to keep the identity of his higher-profile prisoners a secret. For these reasons, only a solitary guard stands positioned at the end of the corridor.

He spares Thor the briefest of glances before giving a slight nod that signals his consent to pass. "The cell at the end," the guard says, anticipating Thor's question, for there are no windows to aid in identifying the prisoners inside. "You will not be able to enter the others."

Thor finds Loki in a softly lit room made of stone and very little else. The light has a golden tinge to it and no source save for perhaps the magical wards infused into the cell. Loki sits on the floor with his back to the wall and his arms folded around his legs. Beneath him is a cape of red fabric that Thor recognizes as belonging to their father. It's the only shred of comfort in an otherwise cheerless place.

Loki's head rests against the wall, and he stares ahead into nothing without blinking. It's a disturbing sight. He's not even breathing. Thor goes to him at once and kneels down beside him, filled with absolute fury and fear at the sight of his brother in such a state—unresponsive and so unlike himself. It's no wonder Loki was finally broken by this punishment.

When Thor puts his hands on either side of Loki's face, he finds his brother's skin is ice cold, though it warms quickly in response to the heat from Thor's palms. It takes a few moments, but Loki's eyelids blink twice, and then he swallows painfully. His eyes flit to Thor's face, and tears begin to leak out of them, though whether from emotion or simply from not blinking for so long, Thor is uncertain. All he knows is that Loki begins to tremble beneath his hands, and Thor hates every second of it.

"You're all right," Thor says, moving his hands from Loki's cheeks down to his arms. He kneads and squeezes them to aid in returning sensation to his brother's limbs.

Loki gives a terrible gasp as he inhales, taking in a deep breath as if he thinks he might never receive another. "T-Thor?" he whispers, caught somewhere between relief and lingering doubt.

All at once, Thor is struck by the fact that Loki willingly submitted himself to the subtle horror of this place, even though he was still struggling with the belief that his brother would fulfill his end of the bargain and not abandon Loki here to rot.

Thor's arms surround his brother at once, engulfing and warming him, seeking to eliminate all doubt as to why he came. "I've got you," he whispers. He rubs his hands up and down Loki's back, massaging life back into the numb muscles. "I am here."

Soaking up the physical stimuli gratefully, Loki sighs his relief and sags against his brother. They stay like that for some time, quiet and lost in their own little world.

"What happens now?" Loki whispers after a long time. Every syllable is accented by a trembling little gasp as he struggles to reestablish the normal cadence of his breathing.

Thor presses a warm series of kisses along his brother's hairline. "I don't know," he admits. "But whatever comes next, we will face it together—just as I promised."

* * *

_Ten years later -_

"Hurry up, Sam," Thor says as he peers through the doorway into his daughter's chambers. "You should have been ready by now."

" _I know. I know_."

Outside, the Asgardian sky is still dark but lightened on the edges with the promise of morning. Despite the earliness of the hour, they have a long journey ahead of them, and they are late. Sixteen-year old Samantha has only just crawled out of bed and into her school uniform. She is little more than a flurry of movement as she darts from her closet over to her vanity table. She has Frigga's noble features, Jane's delicate bone structure and height, the warmth of her father's eyes, and the mischievous confidence of her uncle's smile.

Reaching out with her seidr, she summons her hairbrush into her hand but pauses before running it through her hair as another idea occurs to her. With a roguish smile, she casts an illusion over herself, transforming her bedraggled hair into perfectly smooth blond curls that extend to her waist.

Though he disapproves of any alterations whatsoever to her appearance—even one as minor as this—Thor hesitates only long enough to marvel over how lovely his daughter is. "Sam, that is not the reason I allowed your uncle to teach you—"

"Oh, they'll never know the difference," Samantha says, tossing her hairbrush over her shoulder and onto her unmade bed. "Come on, or I'll miss my bus."

There is a rush to the stables, hampered only by a few citizens seeking audience with their young king. Thor brushes their requests aside as kindly as he is able, promising to address them upon his return, after his daughter is safely deposited on Midgard. Soon they've mounted a pair of horses and are riding toward the Bifrost.

This is the compromise Thor and Samantha have agreed upon, their way of finding balance between the two realms they love. Every morning, Thor journeys with his daughter to the Bifrost and then sees her off to her school, where she has grown up amongst her childhood friends in accordance with her mother's wishes. The road has not always been smooth, but the struggle has been worth it. With the combined efforts of her father, uncle, Sif, and many others, Samantha's head could not be more level.

Upon their arrival at the Bifrost Observatory, Samantha wishes Heimdall a breathless hello. "You are late," Heimdall scolds in his unemotional sort of way, yet he still manages to infuse affection into the words. And then he sends them off.

They land on the same New Mexican street where Samantha grew up, which bears the deeply imprinted stamp of the Bifrost. Right in front of it, next to the Peterson's mailbox, is a For Sale sign.

Thor has barely caught his breath before his daughter is running up the yard toward their old house, skipping up the steps and flying inside without a backwards glance. Thor looks down the street to reassure himself that her school bus is not yet approaching, and then he follows. They have some time yet to spare.

His Midgardian house is far less grand than Asgard's palace, though no less dear to his heart. In the backyard, Jane's almond tree grows green and lush in spite of the desert heat. The house could do with a fresh coat of paint and perhaps some attention paid to the yard—reasons to consider lingering here for a few hours while Samantha is at school, though Thor suspects his attention will be held captive elsewhere, just as it always is.

Samantha left the front door open either out of inattentiveness or in anticipation of her father's entry behind her. Thor finds his daughter in the kitchen, gifting her uncle's cheek with a good morning kiss.

Loki's appearance is tidy and relaxed. His hair is neatly trimmed and his clothes, recently pressed. Thor eyes the places where his brother's button-down shirt crease distractingly near his waistline, but he discreetly looks away when his daughter turns to carry two plates of food to the table. Loki follows her with a third. When his eyes fall upon Thor, he says, "You're late."

"So I've been told," Thor replies.

They sit down together to share breakfast, as has been their tradition for many years now. Their arrangement has worked well enough, with Loki choosing to live here after his pardon rather than at the Asgardian palace. Though he's never once detailed the reasons behind his preference, Thor suspects his brother has felt more at home in this place than he ever did in Asgard. His presence amongst the Midgardians has remained secret, thanks to his ability to disguise his appearance with illusions.

Samantha shovels eggs and toast into her mouth and cranes her head to look out of the window every few moments to check for the approach of her school bus. Meanwhile, Loki sips his coffee with his eyes locked on his brother. Thor gives him a little nod to reassure him that he hasn't forgotten, and Loki looks away, his expression lost somewhere between nervousness and relief.

Thor clears his throat, drawing his daughter's attention back to the breakfast table. "Sam, there is something your uncle and I wish to speak to you about when you have returned from school this afternoon. It is nothing to feel anxious over. Simply something we feel we should share with you now that you are nearing adulthood."

Wearing a skeptical look, Samantha's gaze shifts back and forth between her uncle and father. "Oh, I get it. You want to have _that_ talk. That's really not necessary."

Loki's brow pinches together in the middle while Thor readjusts his position in his chair. "What do you mean by that?" Loki asks as he sets his cup down.

"Seriously?" Samantha says. "You think I haven't noticed the two of you sneaking off to shag each other's brains out for the last ten years? Please. Give my intelligence a little credit here. My mother was an astrophysicist."

The moment the word _shag_ is out of her mouth, Thor and Loki immediately don identical expressions of horror. Samantha smiles sweetly back, taking no small amount of enjoyment from their dismay. After another glance through the window, she jumps to her feet and grabs her backpack. "There's my bus," she says. "Now if either of you have any questions for me or need to work through your feelings to help you cope with this knowledge, we can talk after I get home."

With that, she drops a kiss on each of their appalled faces and runs out of the house to catch her bus.

"Did she just . . . ?" Thor says. With a groan, he puts his face in his hands. "I'm not certain how, but I'm convinced this is your fault."

Loki turns to him with a heated glare. "Do not forget who first seduced whom in this very kitchen, _brother_. For once, every smattering ounce of this ridiculous mess is _your fault_."

Though the statement is obviously meant as a harmless jab, it hangs in the air like a question. Despite the years that have passed, things have not yet fully solidified between the brothers. It has been a rocky road as they've addressed past hurts and attempted to reconstruct some semblance of a relationship on top of a new foundation. They've had their fair share of arguments, some of them even ending in blood, but they always seem to end up here—quietly sitting together with their focus aimed at raising a child and ruling a realm rather than fighting with one another. If nothing else, Samantha has given them the focus they need to hold on and keep pressing forward.

Thor reaches out to trace his fingertips across his brother's knuckles. "Do you have regrets?"

Loki's lips purse as he studiously looks down at the table, but he doesn't pull his hand away. "You know I have plenty, though perhaps not for the reasons you seem to imply."

Thor smiles at Loki's indirect way of offering verbal affection. "I do not have to return to Asgard right away," Thor says softly. "I could stay awhile, if you'd like."

"Yes, I suppose you wish to discuss the modifications the council requested to your trade proposal."

"Not particularly," Thor says, his hand traveling upward to enclose Loki's wrist.

Loki swallows as his brother's thumb moves in circular motions over the delicate inside of his forearm, where the pulse beats. "Your daughter, then. We should decide what to tell her later when she comes home. Despite the ease of her reaction, she will no doubt have questions for us."

"Nothing we aren't already prepared for." Thor leans forward slowly, keeping his eyes on Loki's downcast face as he draws close. He presses a kiss to the corner of Loki's mouth and then whispers, "Look at me. When are you ever going to stop running from what I freely offer?"

Even now, the intimacy of this kind of conversation is difficult for Loki to endure, though it has grown easier to coax him into it. He licks his lips and almost seems to melt. He leans against Thor and works his hand around to grasp his brother's wrist in kind.

When Loki finally meets Thor's eyes, reflected there is a vulnerable hint of hope that has grown stronger every day. "Why do you put up with me?" Loki whispers.

There have never been enough words to convince Loki to accept the answer to that question, though Thor has spent many years trying. And so he turns Loki's chin ever so gently in his direction and lets the love infused into his kiss convey all he holds in his heart.

* * *

The end.

A/N – Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought of this story if you have a few moments. Take care!


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